


In the Eye of Heaven

by DeathjunkE



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2012, Gen, Gen Fic, Kid Fic, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel gets wind of Raphael’s plan to go to the past to kill Samuel Winchester, he has to act. In the past, Castiel meets Dean as a kid and a teenager and tries to keep him safe, despite his rapidly depleting Grace. Finally, Castiel’s Grace is all gone and he is forced to leave Dean and Sam’s well being in the hands of the only person he can ever trust when all of heaven is becoming corrupt, Himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Meeting what's left of the family

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> Strong language, references to the SPN Comics (Origins, Rising Sun and the 3rd one. I cant remember the name atm.)
> 
> Notes:  
> Many thanks to the wonderful people who helped my make this fic readable; hull1984 and jennamcquaid
> 
> And to the supersplediforus teamabodo for all the beautiful art! ♥
> 
>  
> 
> There is also a Fanmix available:  
> http://8tracks.com/deathjunke/in-the-eye-of-heaven-fanmix

**Prologue:** Meeting what's left of the family

Bobby wasn't startlingly handsome, he never had been. Neither was he all that intimidating (unless he had a shot gun at hand), or respectable. But Robert M. —don’t ask what the M stands for— Singer was intelligent, determined, paranoid, loyal and a worry-wart to boot. It was those traits that got him through Lisa Braden's front door.

When she pulled open the door, Bobby gave her a once over and smiled behind his beard. She was pretty in a way that would attract just about every man out there; slender with long dark hair, almond shaped eyes and smooth, tawny skin. “Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah.” He scrubbed a thick hand over his beard, smoothing it down and working out his nervousness. Sure, he approached strangers more times than he could count but that was always with cover stories and layers of masks– means to an end. This. This was different, this was family. “Dean Winchester home?”

“Who’s askin’?” Lisa’s dark eye brows lifted and she leaned against the door jamb, one hand out of sight and no doubt gripping something that could be used to fight off an unwanted guest. It was easy to see why that boy liked her.

“I’m Robert Singer-”

“Singer? Bobby Singer?” She frowned and pooched her lips as she contemplated the name, “Dean’s Uncle, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” He smiled a bit, it had been quite some time since he’d been called ‘uncle’. Sam out grew it when he was about sixteen and still shorter than the rest of his family.

“Oh, well then come in…” She stepped back and held the door open for him. “Dean’s at work right now, but if you don’t mind keeping me company for a bit— oh, thank you.” She smiled softly as he pushed a bottle of some candy-ass wine into her hands with a nod. “Kitchen’s this way.”

Bobby’s eyes wandered as they walked through the rooms. It was all very large, clean and surprisingly enough _not_ covered in charms, wards, sigils and other anti-supernatural proofing. There wasn’t even a devil’s trap chalked on the ceiling! And while Bobby understood that Dean wanted his apple pie life, it didn’t mean that he had to get stupid with it. Just because you got out of the hunt didn't mean the hunt was ready to let go of you.

He’d seen it happen to several good men. They decided that they were done with it all and got careless. It was that kind of thing that got you killed. He’d have to talk some sense into that boy. He knew better. He knew what was out there since before he could wipe his own ass.

Bobby gnashed his teeth, he be damned if he let another one of John’s boys— his boys, get hurt again.

The kitchen was bright and cheery. Olive green and white with three mugs in a row on the drying rack and three plates behind them, like something out of one of those housewife magazines that Karen used to subscribe to.

Lisa reached up into the cabinet over the sink and pulled out a wine glass and a glass tumbler. It was uncomfortably silent as she pulled the cork on the wine bottle and tipped some of the rosé into the glass. She handed it to Bobby who thanked her and pulled off his cap.

Then, with out even the slightest bit of hesitation, the woman pulled out a bottle of Captain Morgan from under the sink filled the tumbler half way and took a gulp herself.

“Oh, sure, leave me with the girly drink.”

“Hey, you’re the one that brought it!” She laughed lightly and smiled at him over the rim of her glass.

Bobby snickered and nodded. The tension slipped from his shoulders, “Its good to finally meet you, Lisa.”

“Likewise, likewise.” Lisa gripped the bottle and poured another tumbler full of rum and slid it across the table. “It’s kind of odd to see you here, I’ll admit. Dean never really talks about before he came to live with us. And the only people he ever talks about are you and …well, Sam.”

The man just shrugged, there was nothing he could really say against that. “Boy’s got no other friends and no other family.”

“Yeah, but it seems what he has he’s not to keen on talking about it.”

“Dean's not keen on talking at all, to tell you the truth. That’s why I drove down here.”

“You came down here to talk? From South Dakota? You could’ve called. I’d have made him pick up the phone…not that I don’t want you here or anything.” She back tracked just incase she managed to offend.

“Yeah, but then he’d just lie through his teeth and expect me to believe him. I can’t have that —especially not now.”

“What do you mean _especially not now_?” Lisa’s lips pressed into a fine line and her brow crinkled, “last time I checked lying was never an acceptable thing.”

The silence wasn't uncomfortable but it stretched out between them.

“You know what is we do— well, did in Dean’s case.”

“Monsters, demons, all the things that people still want to ignore exist after this whole apocalypse, you get rid of them.” She gulped down what was left in her cup and twisted the glass on the table top leaving trails of water behind. “Dean rescued Ben and me from one of them. A changeling… he called it a changeling.”

“That’s right. Sometimes, no, every time to get the job done we gotta lie and act and play roles… It’s hard to keep who you are straight some times. It’ll be worse for Dean —the rest of us, most of us, got into this when we were grown— he was raised to it just like his momma.”

There was a faint clacking by the window. The noise caught the hunter's attention and he looked through the glass and saw a wind chime. It was done in macramé twine with buckeye nuts and cats eye shells. Bobby couldn't help but smile, the boy hadn’t forgotten what he’d come from or even tried to, apparently he just got smart about concealing it.

“Those were Dean’s idea. He said he liked the way they sound, reminded him of his mother… That’s all I could ever get him to say about her.” Lisa took her cup and leaned back to put it in the sink. “Every entrance and every window has them. He was insistent about it.”

“The Campbell's, his momma’s folks, were hunters for generations. Apparently she thought she escaped it all and wasn’t careful enough. Boy never stood a chance, hunting is in his blood, he was going to get pulled in sooner or later. I’m just glad it's over for him now.” Bobby nodded toward the window, “As for those…”

“I’m listening.”

“Those things are protections. Buck eye for luck and cats eye to ward off evil intentions. Dean’s nothing if he ain’t careful, I wouldn't be surprised if he put iron nails in the window sill and salt under the carpet.

“You got it.” Her smile was a half amused smirk and half exasperated grimace. “There’s nails in the window, iron light fixtures through out the house, when he painted the house he dissolved Kosher Salt into holy water and mixed that in to every can of paint we bought. There are sigils painted every where under the carpets and on the ceiling in glow in the dark paint, Gooferdust in all my flower-beds and Dean’s flower pots.”

“Dean’s flower pots?”

“Yeah, upstairs in the windows; he has all these herbs in pots. Wont let me use them to cook or move them an inch.”

“Sounds thorough, he’s taking care to make sure you’re safe.”

“I know, it´s just… it all seems like too much some days.” Lisa slid into the chair besides the one Bobby sat in. “Knowing all this seems like too much…”

“I know what you mean. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss, but being knowledgeable is being safe. You’ve got a boy don’t you.”

“Yeah, I do. Benjamin.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirteen, about to hit fourteen.” Lisa dug into her back pocket and flipped open her wallet to a picture of a young boy in a swim trunks with holding a hose sitting on the hood of the Impala. “Sweetest thing, too. He can’t stand to see anyone hurting and gave every man I ever dated the 3rd degree.”

Bobby took a deep gulp of the dark rum and turned his sharp, brown eyes on her. “Boy’s the spitting image.”

“I know.” Lisa laughed brokenly, and tossed the wallet onto the table. “I’m going to have to tell them sooner or later. And I really, really don’t want to.”

“You told him that boy wasn’t his?” It came out like a blasphemous whisper, quiet and filled with a different kind of fear. “Oh girl…”

“It was a fling —a one-night thing. I didn’t know until three weeks after he left town, and then, when I saw him eight years later, in the same car, with the same jacket and the same drifter life style… I couldn’t do it. He’d just saved my baby, and taught him how to handle bullies and just was… was _there_ after so long with no explanation.

I had been taking care of Ben on my own. And all I could think was how bad it would be to hear ‘is’ or ‘when’ whenever he asked about Dad coming back’. Having a little boy wondering all that… I …it’s not fair and it’s not right.”

“S’alright, I ain’t judgin’ you.” He couldn’t, not after giving John the same speech every time they caught sight of each other.

“I can’t even say it was me being selfless and not wanting Dean to feel obligated.”

Bobby gave a dark half laugh and shook his head, “Dean not feel obligated?”

“I know, stupid me, right?”

“Nah, I don’t think you’re stupid. Anything but actually.” Having an absent father seemed worse than having no father. “I don’t have kids of my own, Sam and Dean are the closest I’ll ever get to having sons. I’ve watched them grow up, their Daddy dragging them across the country on some crazy ass crusade. And when ever John left them behind those were the worst questions to hear— hell, I wasn’t even the one answering them.”

“Really, your wife?”

“No, Dean. When they were kids all Sam ever wanted to know was where was his daddy going, when would he be back, why didn’t he take them with him. Why, why, why— that’s all that ever came out of that boy’s mouth. At least it was until he turned eight and learned that there never was going to be a straight answer.”

Again there was a silence between them. It lasted until Lisa stood up and dug through her refrigerator for a few moments before turning to look over her shoulder. “Will you teach me to make chili? Dean doesn’t ever eat mine.”

With a nod and a charming smile, Bobby stood and went to wash his hands.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

“This good?” Lisa called over to her guest who was putting a can of kidney beans into the pasta strainer.

“You wanna cut those onions a bit smaller. Too big and then you’ll get a mouth full of onion.”

“Right, right.” She went at the onions again, determined to get it right. Dean liked lots of things, he wasn't picky at all but the two things she’d never been able to get just right was the spicy chili he talked about when ever he mentioned Bobby’s name and that perfect apple pie that he remembered from early on in his childhood.

Lisa wasn't stupid, no one ever cooked like your mom, and she was certain Dean’s mother was dead and couldn't give her the recipe for her apple pie anyway. However, Bobby was alive and kicking and three feet away. Goddamned, if she let this chance go by.

“Mr. Singer -”

“Bobby, just Bobby.”

“Can you tell me… tell me some stuff about Dean when he was a kid.” She smiled at him as he used a bowl and the wine bottle as a mortar and pestle to mash the garlic. “Usually there are family functions where you get to hear all the embarrassing stuff but…”

Bobby’s throaty chuckle rang through the kitchen and he bit his bottom lip, this woman was a good one. “Alright. So there was once we were all down in Arkansas. There was a big job to do, we were clearing out an infestation of ghouls. Nasty things—they eat the dead after they dig up their graves. After that, they move on to fresher game, if you get my drift.

The numbers were insane so we needed a whole group of hunters. So, it was me, John, Caleb, Murphy, Bill Harvelle, Rufus and the local kid who had put out the SOS. I think Dean was just about fourteen, Sammy was ten. So, we’re all going through this massive underground crypt. It’s like a maze, really intricate and creepy as hell. Caskets cracked open and bones everywhere. It reeked and the spiders in there were bigger than huge. It was gross.

None of that bothered Dean at all. He’s all gung-ho about killing these damn things. So we find the nest and we’re all fighting like crazy, there were about a dozen or so ghouls. I took out two, Dean took out four on his own, I remember that. Then, about halfway through the fight we all hear screaming. Not your everyday ‘I’m in pain scream’, but ‘someone is slaughtering a little girl’ shrieking.

We all turn around and Dean’s standing on top of a coffin screaming like a five year old girl because a rat crawled over his foot and was standing there next to the coffin. The boy took out a werewolf when he was twelve, demons, ghosts, rawheads, black dogs! And he’s throwing fits about a rat.”

Lisa doubled over hysterical. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had seen Dean give Ben his last $20.00 for throwing out a mouse trap she asked him to get rid of, she wouldn’t believe it. It just seemed so ridiculous! Dean— bad-ass, swaggering, perfect shot and handsome hero Dean, was afraid of rats!

“The boy refused to get down from the coffin until his daddy shot the damn thing and kicked it to the other side of the crypt. In the end I don’t know who was more embarrassed Dean

“That is priceless!” Lisa crowed as she tipped the bowl of ground meat into the pot. “You got another one?”

“Hmmm. Not many really. If you want the best stories you have to ask Sa—” Lisa saw the look of heartbreak flash across Bobby’s face and knew that he had forgotten that Sam was no longer among the living.

Lisa knew, even though Dean never told her. Sam had to be dead, killed in some horrific way that made Dean choke back sobs and whiskey those first two months that he stayed with her. Lisa was no fool, Dean may care about her, might even love her—but there was no way he’d be here if Sam was alive. Dean loved and held on to his family with a tenacity she had never before seen.

“Yeah, I figured.”

“No one knows Dean like Sam does.” Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Sam saw all the best and the worst of that boy. Dean was Sam’s mother, father, brother, friend, bodyguard, teacher …Dean raised that boy.”

“I thought they were with their father?”

“They were but that didn’t mean jack squat. If you’d have seen it you’d understand better. I watched a six year old feed, change and bathe his baby brother all while pulling bottles of rotgut out of his father’s hand and sending him to bed.” The man’s face was a mix of sorrow and pride. Clearly he thought the world of the boy, even if he wished he hadn’t had such a rough childhood.

“That boy wouldn’t let a soul help either. If anyone got within ten feet of Sam or John they’d be pulling buckshot out of their ass for days. No one could even touch Sam back in those days. Dean would hold Sammy until Sam got sick of it and made Dean put him down and if the boy wasn’t in Dean’s arms he was always within reach. I don’t think I really realized that they weren’t attached until Sam was fifteen.”

“Dean told me, once, that he was close to Sam.” Lisa peered into the bubbling pot and inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of all the herbs and spices. “I know better though, close is an understatement.”

Bobby nodded and settled with his back against the counter. “John… he… I won’t say he messed up by giving Sam to Dean, Dean was a better care taker than his father ever was. But when he did that, he did something irreversible. When Johnny tried to take the reins back, Sam just would not have it, he fought tooth and nail. And Dean… he was just falling to pieces. That boy lives to take care of the ones he loves.

Dean’s lost his brother, his best friend and his son all at once. Give him some time, he’ll heal and then he’ll love you and that boy with everything he’s got.”

Lisa hummed to herself as she watched the mix in the pot bubble and brown. It smelled wonderful and made her hopeful. As if by mastering this dish, the closest thing Dean had to comfort food, she could entice him to stay just a bit longer. It was a bit mean but Lisa often likened her boyfriend to a feral cat. You could feed him, maybe even pet him but keeping the man was out of the question. It was only a matter of time before he left, and when he did you could only keep the door open and wait for him to come back.

With a slow smile, and a refreshed drink, Lisa said, “Got another one?”

“In fact, I do. It was a good long while ago. Dean was just about fourteen, I think. That boy had learned to wrap the ladies around his fingers at his father’s knee. You think that boy is smooth, John could sweet talk a nun out of her panties if he really wanted to.

We all stopped at a diner in town to plan out what we were going to do. And, of course, our waitress is a pretty young thing, couldn't be more than nineteen. While we are all bent over the map, Dean sends Sam over to our table and slips off to the bathroom. Now none of us realized exactly what was happening until fifteen minutes passed and we’re all still sitting there with out so much as a glass of water.

So, John looks around sees Dean’s no where to be found, and goes storming through the restaurant like a bull through a china shop. Turns out Dean was in the bathroom after all, the ladies room, the waitress and her friend were all over him and the boy was down to his boxers when his Daddy dragged him out. Of course, John gives him the usual ‘didn’t I teach you better than that and if I find you got a girl pregnant before you’ve put a ring on her finger I’ll make damn sure you can’t do it again’ lecture.

So we all thought it was over and went on with the hunt.

John parks the Impala at a motel just outside of town and tells the boys he’ll be back in a few hours. Gives the usual orders, if it moves and you don’t know what it is shoot it, watch out for your brother, salt and stay in the room —the whole she-bang. So we go off hunting and on the way back Caleb and I are driving John back to his car only to see another car parked next to the Impala.

We get out in time to see Dean yank the motel room door open and toss a bunch of clothes out the door with two barely dressed girls older than he is running after ‘em. By now John is furious and the rest of us are all wondering if he’s going to kill the kid and we all go into the room and find Dean holding Sam trying to make him stop crying.

Turns out the room had a hot tub, and on the way to it one of the girls said something to Sammy that made him cry. And Dean, well you ask him, he’s the only one who can make Sammy cry and get away with it. He shoved them right out on their asses."

 

Lisa smiled and felt a pang in her heart for the Dean she never got to really know.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

It was the faint tinge of Grace and Presence that told Castiel that he was not alone. A quick glimpse discerned that he had been joined by an assistant of one of the Archangels; Gabriel’s, if the colors of his sash were not to be mistaken.

“Castiel,” The angel spoke in his true voice, despite being swaddled in the flesh of his Vessel —a child of five with too much wispy red hair and a multitude of freckles.

“Yes, Brother Djin?”

Djin stood next to Castiel. His eyes tracking the movement within the area. It was easy to see the humans from here. “I know Brother Gabriel was not fond of your human.”

“My human?” Castiel echoed, voice jangling in amusement. “Do not be taken in by such talk, that man belongs to no one.”

“Don’t be so sure, Castiel.” The other angel chided gently, an older brother giving a short reprimand. “It was you who raised him from perdition, and also you who got him to do what our Father could not.”

Castiel’s lips pursed at the thought of Yahweh, the divine one, who abandoned His sons and all His creation to destruction and hopelessness. Yet the angel said nothing. He would not cause trouble for himself by confessing his doubt, bitterness, and the other things that he had no business feeling.

“I know that Brother Gabriel did not care for the affairs of heaven but he died for the cause he believed in. I do not want his death to be in vain, Castiel. I do know that he would want you to know that Raphael is out to undo everything.”

“How so? Does Raphael intend to start breaking open other seals?” There were 600 seals left on the cage, it only took destroying 66 of them to open it once more. “I understand that he would be freeing Michael but he would loose Lucifer as well.”

“That is why he’s going to kill Lucifer’s true Vessel. All of that blood line will be extinguished so that Lucifer will no longer have a body to inhabit.” Djin affirmed, his voice low and human as to not alert the host.

“Samuel is all that was left. The others were made to slaughter one another until the all but the strongest were dead.”

“It takes a shepherd only moments to cull a lamb.”

“If he were to kill Samuel Winchester before they know the truth of demons Dean would not fall to perdition. His soul…" Castiel's voice was filled with reverence, "it is as bright as our grace and free of the usual human taint. For he is truly righteous.”

“That is true," Djin reached out to Castiel with his grace, a gesture meant to gentle his words. "But so is our brother’s ruthlessness.”

Castiel felt the dread pool through his bodies, both ethereal and corporal. Of course, Raphael would take pleasure in killing children. For an angel of healing, he was horribly sadistic. “I thank you for informing me.”

Castiel waited until Djin had flickered out of the area, returning to the Host, before he took a deep breath and moved through the fluid torrent called time.  



	2. The First Encounter

**Chapter 1:** The first Encounter

“I got them from the house up the block.” Dean admitted with a shrug. All he wanted was to give Sam the Christmas he wanted. And yeah, he knew what Sam wanted was dad, but dad wasn't here, and there was nothing Dean could really do about that except to try and make Sam think he was and when all else failed—

“Look, I’m sure dad would have been here if he could.”

“If he’s alive.” For a kid who wasn’t even eight, Sam was one hell of a cynic. But that’s what this life did, even if Sam didn’t know about the monsters, he still endured the training, the recitations of countless incantation, the detachment from everything that made up daily life for everyone who wasn’t a hunter— wasn’t a Winchester.

“Don’t say that.” Dean snapped, unwilling to even let his mind wander down that route. “Of course he’s alive. He’s dad.” Dad had to be alive. Dad and Sam were all he had left anymore. Dean had spent far too much time pulling bottles and cups and flasks of rotgut from his fathers hands and bullying him into bed, learning to shoot instead of read, cooking meals, giving baths and changing diapers. He’d invested far too much of his heart and soul into his family to just lose them.

And if dad died, that’s what would happen. While Bobby, or maybe even pastor Jim, would take them in, there was no way to get there, no way to contact them and child services would be all over two unsupervised minors. They’d take Sammy in a heartbeat, and they wouldn’t know that Sam hated Deer Park water, that he never ate orange food and they wouldn’t know to tell Sam no when asked for a drink after six.

Sam nodded again, clearly it was an indulgent nod; as if the runt knew something Dean didn’t.

“Here, take this.” Sam offered up the clumsily wrapped gift, peering at his brother through his thick floppy bangs.

“No, no. That’s for dad.”

“Dad lied to me,” Sam pushed the package forward into Dean’s hands. “I want you to have it.”

“You sure?”

Another one of those nods, “I’m sure.”

Dean peeled back the layers of newspaper and his eyes widened at the golden trinket. It was real gold, and it was warm to the touch, like it was a living, breathing thing. When he wrapped his thinning, child-no-more fingers around the pendant, a heavy warmth flew over him, reminding him of the nights he spent as a toddler, warm between his mother and father in their bed.

And, all of that compounded by the fact that Sam had given it to him. A gift fit for their father, a man that Dean thought infallible despite his obvious flaws, unbreakable, a hero and the epitome of what he was meant to be.

“Thank you, Sam. I-I love it.” Sam smiled as Dean pulled the leather thong over his head and let the warmth of the pendant flow over him.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Castiel felt the jolt of awareness slice through his Grace.

His eyes widened as his Grace constricted and pulled towards the new presence. This feeling, he knew it was something he had felt a few times before. Every hundred years or so, that amulet was passed on to a new human keeper.

The amulet was a spiritual sensor; it always managed to find its way to the most brilliant of souls. It somehow managed to become a cherished item each time to preserve its itself. The trinket was the last remnant of God. Forged by the hands of Adam and kept moving through countless generations.

This time the amulet managed to find its way to Dean.

Castiel pulled himself up from the floor by force of will alone and stumbled down the block of hotel rooms. Castiel’s hand pressed against each red numbered door, steadying him as he dragged himself towards the pull. He was in no shape to move, much less defend the children, but Raphael and the rest of the Angels from 2009, all knew that Dean Winchester was the Keeper of the amulet. Undoubtedly, they would all flock to this place full of murderous intent and self-righteousness.

The concrete walls of the motel were rough and gritty beneath the palms of Castiel’s Vessel. The bite of the wall and the trembling of his legs were distracting. When Castiel was full of Grace and Power human limitations had no effect affect on him. Pain, hunger, lust and even gravity had no real effect affect on the celestial body but since his Grace began to trickle away and transmute into a soul —the very essence of humanity-, Castiel became aware of all of them and more.

Being human wasn’t pleasant. There were feelings and interactions and discomfort and an aloneness that Castiel had never known when he was one with the Host. But somehow all those awful emotions were still better than the nothingness that had echoed through his being before.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

“Dean, come on I don’t want to polish all this stuff! How about we trade off, I’ll read the books and you clean the guns.”

“Nope.”

Dean frowned at the book as he tried to conjugate a particularly challenging Aramaic verb. Sammy was better at this stuff, yeah, but he was also too little to have to deal with the horrors of Bakhtaks, little beast that paralyzed you in your sleep and fed on your flesh while you lay there hoping for someone to come kill it.

He may have only been twelve, a kid himself, but he was a lot older than Sammy, who still didn't need to know why he had to pack shotgun shells full of salt or why they didn’t have a mother anymore — or, in the more immediate situation, about the things that went bump in the night.

“Dean!” Sam whined, raising up on his knees and reaching across the table trying his best to wrap his fingers around the edges of the book. “Come on, please.”

“Sammy! Clean guns or go to bed. You pick.”

With a dissatisfied huff, Sam threw himself back into the chair, and glared at the solvent covered cotton patches and the barrel brush; knowing that if he went to bed now, Dean would just make him clean the guns tomorrow. With short irritated motions, Sam cleaned the hot gun barrels, changing the cotton squares three times, before moving to clean the muzzle and rim recess. He’d polish the outside of the guns later, if his arms didn’t ache.

“When’s Dad coming back?”

“Soon.” Dean peered through his thick lashes at his little brother. Watching to make sure he was holding the guns right and making sure they were unloaded before he cleaned them out. “He said this was going to be a short run… he’s probably getting some more supplies.”

“A supply run at this time?” The younger boy’s brow furrowed and his pink lips thinned as he pressed them together and glared at his brother through narrowed eyes. “I’m little, Dean. Not stupid.”

Dean smirked and wagged his eyebrows, “I dunno…”

“Hey!”

“I’m just joking, Sammy. You’re a lot of things; a pain in the ass, annoying, a total shrimp, a girl—”

“Dean!” Sam’s tiny hands slammed down on the table with a loud slap. Dean gave a genuine smile at the sight of his brother. The kid was too cute, flushed pink with all that hair in his face, a full on pout and those big, brown, cat eyes blazing with indignant righteousness.

“I’m gonna have to get a new name soon, you’re gonna wear that one out.”

Sam was apparently at the end of his rope because tears started collecting in in his eyes and Dean felt half guilty. It had been a long day, they had been in the car for so long that they were sore and cranky once they got here, but concentrating on unfavorable tasks made everything that more tiresome. Not to mention, it was late and, of course, this being the first night in a new place, Sammy would be fighting sleep tooth and nail.

“Really, Sammy, I was just joking, you’re a lot of things but stupid ain’t one of them.”

“Really? You don’t think I’m stupid?”

“No. Why’d you think that? Was someone making fun of you?”

“It’s just that… all the time there’s a new school and a new teacher,” Sam pulled roughly at his hair, his small fist yanking mercilessly, until Dean gently pried his fingers away from the long dark locks and pushed the baby soft hair behind Sam’s ear. “And I never know what they already did. So, I don’t know sometimes, Dean! I just don’t!”

“Aw, Sammy, don’t get so upset. The teachers are there to show you what you don’t know and if you don’t want to ask them, ask me. I’ll figure it out.” Dean started collecting the guns, putting the clean ones back in the duffle they came from, while pushing the old ones together to the other end of the table. “Look, I’ll get these, you go shower.”

Sam nodded and slid from the chair, shifting around through his bag for the soap and his pajamas.

“Wash your hair too.” Dean called out behind him.

“Aw, come on!”

“Wash it. I’m going to trim it before you go to bed or else dad will complain.”

Sam grumbled predictably and kicked his foot against the leg of his chair. With a sigh the boy looked up and gasped. He dropped the gun he was cleaning and snatched a loaded one off the table, “Down!”

It was an ingrained response at this point— Dean had dropped from where he was and rolled away, pulling his gun out from his pants and readying himself to shoot the man who had soundlessly appeared in their room.

“Who the fuck are you?” Dean snarled, as he side stepped closer to his brother.

The middle aged asshole in the lame suit, just smirked and reached out towards Sam, and Dean fired. Three neat shots right into that bastard chest.

“Well, aren’t we a good shot?” the man said, he seemed more amused than anything else. “It won't work, boy.”

Dean glanced at Sam, who had one of his hands under the table, finger tips pressed against the bottom of it—a silent signal. Dean gritted his teeth and started to fire again. Sam flipped the table and dashed towards the door, Dean hot on his heels but once they got there it wouldn’t open.

Sam fought and yanked at the door and Dean kept his back to Sam and eyes on the stranger.

“Come here, little Abomination.” The man in the suit didn’t turn, he flickered and was suddenly facing them, “It’s time for you to die.”

“I can’t open it! I can’t open it!” Sammy’s voice was shrill and panicked as he tugged wildly at the door. Dean fired off one round after the other, eyes wide as nothing seemed to affect the man standing there.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

The sound of gunshots drew him to room 183. When the angel felt the Presence beyond the door, he couldn't doubt that the Winchester brothers were behind it. The door was jammed, an angel’s Grace was pressing against it to make it impossible for the brothers, now only children, to escape. While Castiel may have been low on Grace, he was still an angel and all it took was one quick jerk of his wrist to pull out of the door.

The door fell away and Castiel looked on amazed at the two boys. Sam was a tiny thing with a wild mess of curls, huge brown eyes and small bare feet, sawed off shotgun in hand standing behind Dean. Dean wasn’t much bigger than Sam. It was easy to see he was still very much a boy with gold blonde hair, rounded freckled cheeks and his sharp features that had yet to mature. But even though Dean wasn’t much more than a child, he stood with all the bearing of a man, as he leveled his gun at the other angel. His head held high, back straight and feet firm.

This was a Dean that he had never seen before. The boy was innocent and his soul shone impossibly bright and whole, undamaged by hell, filled with love, goodness and forgiveness. It was an awe inspiring sight, and Castiel felt humbled to look upon such brilliance. This soul was His Father’s greatest creation, His intent for all of mankind, it was easy to see that Dean had, in fact been, the righteous man.

Castiel had known a different Dean —a tarnished soul, it was easy to see this small, untainted, innocent Dean, as the origin the man he became. The child was determined, unyielding, and incredibly brave, with the same clenched jaw and pursed lips. Dean pivoted a bit so that both Castiel and the other angel were in his sight, he leaned on his heels and spread his stance more doing his best to block Sam from view.

"Who the hell are you people?” The boy snapped, repositioning his fingers in preparation. “Leave us alone”

"Dean Winchester, Samuel Winchester, you must leave here now." Castiel struggled onto his hands and knees, fully aware of the gun trained on him. If Dean shot him, he wouldn’t be able to heal himself, what was left of his Grace wouldn’t fully heal him and he would bleed and die as a human. This self-assigned mission was much more important than anything else.

“We were here first, you guys fuck off!” Dean’s eyes barely moved but still Castiel felt the boy’s attention on him.

“You disgust me brother, you’ve fallen so low.” Said the other, he stepped forward and pulled his silver blade from his Grace. “I will kill two Abominations this day.”

"My Br—The host… More are coming." It hurt but he just couldn’t think of the other Angels as family any longer. He was no longer part of the collective, Castiel had been cast out for seeking the truth and doing what he knew was right. He was no longer one of them. "They want to kill your brother."

Dean flinched back sharply, it was very clear that he could not ignore such blatant warning despite the source. Dean fired off another two shots at the approaching angel not having any effect except for making him smirk as every bullet dissipated into nothingness.

"There is not time for this." Castiel could feel the hum of more Grace nearby. The presence of his brothers would feed his own Grace for as long as he was in their presence. Because of his exile, Castiel could no longer battle as he once did. So now, the lesser angel absorbed as much power as he could from the Grace in the room, as well as the Grace coming closer. The pure energy warmed his body and strengthened him bit by bit. His fatigue from traveling started to ebb and so did the human sense of pain.

Like lightning Castiel clasped his hands on the shoulders of the children and pulled them along with him to a random location.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

The lights flickered and without warning Dean felt a hand grab his shoulder and then a sick pulling sensation from somewhere behind his belly button.

Dean’s eyes burned as the room flickered. The paisley wall paper turned to rough bricks, the rough carpet beneath his feet was now concrete and the furniture had been replaced by dumpsters and refuse.

“Sammy!” Dean could barely open his eyes, it was all so dizzying but he threw out a hand anyway hoping to feel his brother besides him. “Sammy, where are you?”

“‘M here, Dean.” As soon as Sam’s hands clasped themselves around his left wrist, Dean knew, and pulled his brother close to his side. Although Dean couldn’t quite see Sam yet, he knew where he was, and that he was okay. Sammy’s heart was beating a mile a minute, his breaths coming in sharp pants and crammed up to his side so tight that there had to be someone there.

Acting on instinct, Dean put his back to the wall and tucked Sam into his side while he held his gun leveled on the blur of color that had dragged them here. Dean blinked a few times and tried to clear his eyes. The blur came closer, slowly and Dean fingered the trigger. He blinked once more and was surprised once he got a look at the man who had pulled open the door. The plain looking man standing in front of him; he was wearing a suit, a tan trench coat and had wild black hair. The eyes though, the eyes were too blue, too bright and very clearly not human.

Dean noticed that the man wasn’t looking at them. He was focused on their surrounding. Looking around the mouth of the alleyway to make sure no one had seen them. After a few moments and a thorough check the man in the coat drew his focus back to the brothers.

Dean didn’t like the eerie stare. It was too personal, too familiar and way too creepy. To break the awkward tension Dean attempted to get some answers. ”Who the hell are you and how do you know what’s coming for us? This could be trick for all I know.”

“I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord…”

Dean squeezed the trigger and fired a warning shot right over Castiel’s head. The boy's stern face morphed into a scowl as he aimed once more. “Yeah, I’m Robert Trujillo. Try again, douche bag.”

“I do not have time for this! You need to listen to—” Castiel stilled mid sentence, looked around again and briskly walked over to the alley wall. “Watch what I do, remember this. This will force them away from you and give you some time.”

Dean watched equal parts wary and focused, as Castiel brought a hand to his mouth and bit hard and deep into the soft meat of his palm. He used his blood as paint and drew a symbol on the wall. It was not at all complex, and Dean committed it to memory. If this was something he needed to know he would learn it.

“The seal has to be written in blood, human blood. To activate it slap your hand, the bleeding one, against it.” Castiel explained, his voice a deep and tired rumble.

“You’re human?” Sam had finally worked up the nerve to talk to the man his brother was pointing a gun at. “How did you do all of that then, if you’re human?”

“No, child. I am not human, my Vessel is.” Castiel turned his attention from Sam to Dean.

“You’re a demon then! Demon’s take Vessels— Demons lie!” Dean yanked Sam behind him and started to rattle off a Latin exorcism.

“This is important.” Castiel ignored Dean’s exorcism and spoke over the rhythmic chant in his deep, grave voice, “Never say yes. If you hear the voice of an angel, any angel, do not say yes. We can only take on your body if we have consent— never give consent. No matter what they threaten or offer, even if it is your brother’s very soul— never say yes.”

Dean was brought up short, “My brother’s soul?”

“Yes, your brother’s, your father’s. Soul or life, never say yes. It is impossible to retract permission once it’s been granted and Michael …He will not leave you until there is nothing left on the earth and all the people and things who inhabit it. He will find a way to force your brother to say yes to the Morning Star and then he will kill them both.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because, I am the only angel not calling your brother an Abomination!” Castiel snapped clearly at the end of his patience. “They’re coming…”

Dean shifted and looked around, he couldn’t see any moving shadows, didn’t hear any foot steps. “How can you tell?”

“Trust me,” Castiel said, his blue eyes imploring and all too eerie for Dean to look at for long.

Dean nodded and lowered his gun to his side. He didn’t move when Castiel reached out and placed a hand on his chest and one on Sam’s. In that instant there was a blinding pain, and Dean doubled over and then fell to his knees with a shout, as he felt pain deep down to his bones.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” He groaned, wrapping an arm around himself and pulling a gasping and sobbing Sammy to his chest. “You—”

“I made it impossible to track you by normal means,” Castiel whispered, as he crouched down to their level. “Enochian sigils are carved into your ribs, they won´t be able to track you any more. You need to run and run now, as far as you can.”

“I can’t stand up and you’re talking about running.” The boy grumbled as he wiped away the tears and mucus from his baby brother’s face, tender and gentle even as he was preoccupied with the angel before him.

“I’ve done all I can do, Dean… there is nothing else, no other help I can give you.”

[The lights in the alley flickered and Dean saw the shape of giant feathered wings emerge from Castiel’s shadow. The boy’s eyes widened and he pulled his brother closer to him.](http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2012/301/3/8/i_first_laid_eyes_on_you_by_clair_chan-d5j9tri.png) “She was right after all,” he muttered, clearly in awe.

“Who?”

“My mother, she used to say Angels were watching over me.” Dean chuckled and struggled to his feet. He stood there for a moment, gathering his strength before he hoisted Sam up and onto his hip, “I always thought it was a load of bullshit.”

“Have you always had no faith?”

“I have faith in my family.” Dean said before he turned and left the alley at a brisk pace, carrying Sam on his left hip and clutching his gun in his right hand.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Castiel could not gather enough residual Grace quickly to flee before Michael appeared. He had used all that he had gathered to hide Dean and Sam from the eyes of heaven, now he was sure to pay the price.

Michael arrived wearing the body of a man who looked remarkably like John Winchester, but was clearly not. He didn’t have the bearing of a hunter, he was fresh faced, young and dressed in the gowns that Cas had seen when Dean and Sam had been in one of the human healing houses… hospitals they called them.

Michael was wroth. The crackling of his Grace made that obvious even if he had not yet managed to learn to control the facial muscles of his Vessel; an imperfect Vessel that would suffer damage from the amount of sheer power that was coursing through it.

“Castiel, brother, what has happened?” Michael’s voice was thunderous, the human’s voice was strong alone but it was overlaid by his true voice, the merger of Vessel and angel was as imperfect as it could be with complete rejection. “What has become of my Vessel? Why is your Grace so depleted? Was it an attack?”

“No, Michael.” He had to draw this out, feed off of Michael’s Grace until he could leap through time at best, or just escape if things came to the worst.

“Then why can I not sense him?” The frustration laced his Grace but not his voice, he retained his monotone voice. “You are not the Castiel of this time. Why are you here?”

Castiel felt human once more as he stood before the brother who could destroy him with barely a flick of his wrist. Castiel felt the stomach of his Vessel roil and churn, making him taste the bile in the back of his throat —he knew he must tread carefully now. “There are those in the Garrisons… They no longer receive orders from Father or their superiors but rather take it upon themselves to interfere with Father’s plans.”

“What would one such as you know of Father’s plans?”

Did Michael mean his tainted and depleted Grace or did he mean his rank? While Castiel may be guardian of Thursdays, during times of war he was nothing more than an infantry soldier. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near close enough to hear or receive commands straight from Father or those closest to him.

“Brother, you must not allow them to open Lucifer’s cage.” Castiel implored, “This world would be destroyed — all of Father’s creations will die.”

“Are we not Father’s creations? Surely we will not die out if this disgusting place burns.”

“Michael, He charged us to love humans as He did.” Castiel may not understand humanity, but he had learned to love humans. They were flawed, imperfect and had so much potential. Even those who were worshipful still lived for themselves and their families without orders, without taint. Even though humans were weak, so frail that they were the prey of nearly every beast of purgatory and the Hell far below, they fought back and saved themselves and each other. There was a reason Father charged his first sons to love the humans, Castiel liked to think it was to learn from them.

“You overstep your bounds, little brother. I know what our orders were — better than anyone, I assure you.” Michael extended his Grace once more, searching the area for the distinct resonance his true Vessel would give off. “Now Castiel, what has happened to my Vessel?”

Castiel hesitated for just a moment. He had to put this in a diplomatic way if he wanted to get away from this meeting with his Grace (as little of it as he had left) in tact. “He is no longer visible to those who would wish him harm.”

“I do believe that I am perfectly capable of looking after my own Vessel. You will go to him and remove the warding—”

“I will not, the righteous man will be kept safe. That is my task and I will complete it.” Castiel wondered briefly if Michael would work out that the boys had escaped on foot. If Michael or another angel walked through the streets they would come across the boys at one point or another. The children could not have gotten far and if they returned to their motel room to pack before they moved on they would be easy to pick off.

Did Castiel think like this because he knew Dean? Or was this the logic of a soldier? He couldn’t tell.

Michael disregarded Castiel’s refusal and expanded his Grace once more feeling out for a different resonance. “Where is the little Abomination?”

It was odd how now that he knew Samuel, and knew just how much he meant to Dean that hearing him referred to as _’The Abomination’_ grated on his nerves. And while Sam had become addicted to Demon’s Blood in the future, right now he was an innocent child, —a tainted child, yes— but innocent none the less.

“He, too, has been hidden.”

“Find them and remove the warding. The Abomination must be dealt with. We’ve heard there was an emissary from the time that you mirror. The Abomination must be dealt with swiftly.”

“If an angel destroys Samuel then your Vessel will never, no matter what, give his consent to you,” Castiel left out that he wouldn’t give consent anyway. “Trying to force him with bribes or threats will not work, I have seen Zachariah’s best interrogation and torture tactics fail. The righteous man is not to be underestimated—”

“He is no man yet. My Vessel is a child still and I will have him Castiel. Children can be molded, they are pliable and easily influenced. Look to yourself brother,” Castiel readied himself to jump discreetly, there was no way this could end well. Not if Michael was looking at his Grace and his sympathies for humanity with such a critical eye. “You are but a child yourself and the time you’ve spent among these dirt clods has stained and twisted your Grace. I can see that all that you are has been perverted so much that you can no longer commune with the Host.

Disobedience and willfulness will not be tolerated. You know this. You are in need of correction, Castiel.”

And, just as Castiel could feel the thick oppressiveness of Michel’s Grace, he flickered away to the next time.


	3. nowing you

**Chapter 2:** Knowing you

As a child, Dean had learned that in most cases telling the entire truth only led to trouble. If you told a teacher that you, Sammy and Daddy lived in a motel room, or that you helped Daddy clean his guns, and even had one of your own, there was bound to be talks of Child Protective Services and midnight getaways where you left behind everything and got in the car. Telling Dad that you went to the motel’s lounge for ten minutes while your brother was sleeping (and damn near got eaten by a Striga) got you dropped off at Pastor Jim’s for 8 months while Dad was off hunting, because having your kids three towns over when you are hunting is far too dangerous. Strange men with trench coats and wings that didn’t die once you shot them and a nearly deafening disjointed voice that called Sammy an Abomination would have had Dean and Sam separated at different safe houses for safe keeping and a distant Jon who would obsessively hunt down this threat too.

Dean didn’t want to be left behind and so he kept his mouth shut. He made sure Sammy kept his mouth shut too, after a few months Sammy thought it was just some crazy dream brought on by cleaning guns as he dozed off. They returned to the Motel room packed up and called Bobby to come get them by saying that the lady who owned the motel wanted them out by morning because they had no money to pay for the room any longer.

Dean glanced at the clock radio on the night stand and frowned. It had been two years to the day since that incident with the blue eyed crazy man and the dick in a suit. There was no reason to even think about it now. For some strange reason Dean couldn’t get that day out of his head, and it made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

Dean was fifteen now, he could do more than shoot and run now. He had spent a good amount of time at Bobby’s and other research libraries they ran across looking up the symbols of dead languages. Once he had identified the seal as Enochian, Dean had sat Sam down with a stack of books and was quite happy at what the little geek had found. There were seals for banishments, summonings, repelling, shields and offensive blasts. There was no way to know if they were right, not having a heavenly being on hand to test them out on, but Dean was confident he could at least fend them off long enough to give Sammy a chance to run.

Done with such dismal thoughts, Dean pushed away the blankets and carefully untangled himself from Sammy’s octopus like limbs and slid out of bed. The sun was just coming up and in about forty minutes Sammy’s alarm would be going off, it was a school day after all.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Dean stood under the stream of lukewarm water and tipped his head up towards the spray. It would get hot soon, for a few minutes anyway. Dean stood still for a few minutes then decided to get on with his morning.

After his shower, Dean checked and refreshed the salt lines and seals that made the room safe, pulled out and ironed Sammy’s uniform and walked down to the Seven Eleven to pick up a sandwich to send with Sam for lunch. By the time Dean had come back, there was only fifteen minutes until the alarm. Enough time for breakfast.

Breakfast never took much, just a some bacon and the Bisquet pancake mix and some syrup packets from left over McDonald's breakfasts. Dean was standing over the hot plate carefully turning the bacon with a plastic fork. There was a certain art to it, plastic forks were notoriously flimsy and weren’t strong enough to poke through the raw pork strips with out considerable force, but the plastic always melted as soon as it touched the hot plate. Not to mention the sizzling oil from the bacon crackled and hurt if it landed on exposed skin.

When the bacon was done, Dean poured the pre-made pancake batter onto the hot plate in long thin lines. There wasn't room for multiple round pancakes on the hot plate so he’d come up with “pancake sticks”. Ages ago, when Sammy was learning how to feed himself he always asked for them and Dean was always willing to make a batch.

Just as Dean hit the on button on the coffee maker, [Sam's Watch](http://mylittleundergroundblog.blogspot.com/2012/04/article-794158-darkwing-duck-watch.html) started to play the “Dark-Wing Duck” theme song in an irritatingly high pitched tinny tone. Dean kept one eye on the pancake sticks and the other on the lump that was Sam shifting and grumbling before the song started up again.

“Wake up, Doofus!”

“Shurrup,” Sam grumbled, even as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Go brush your teeth and come eat. This crap will get cold soon.” Dean was carefully using the nail of his pinky finger to lift the edge of a pancake stick enough to slide a wooden chop stick beneath it. He hissed as his finger bumped the plate and wished for a spatula or something that would make the stupid things easier to flip.

Sam, ever the morning the person, grunted and trudged to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and turned on the shower.

Thankfully, Sam’s morning attitude always improved with breakfast. After he’d eaten more than half of the bacon, and all but two pancake sticks, he was back to his cheerful self again. All chubby cheek smiles and dimples and he chattered about what was going to happen at school, and wouldn’t it be nice if he and Dean still went to the same school like last year? Was Dean going back to school? Was dad really okay with that? (Ha! Yeah, like Dad was going to know he had ever stopped) Speaking of which, had Dad finished the job yet?

“Sammy, Shut up and eat.”

Sam scowled but ate his breakfast, his attention turned towards the television where Tiny tunes adventures was playing. Dean took advantage of the momentary distraction to swipe a damp wash cloth over Sam’s chest and face with minimal fuss, somehow the kid always ended up wearing his food. When Sam cleared his plate and the credits rolled Dean sent him to the bathroom once more to wash his hands and brush his hair.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Sam reluctantly stood still as his brother inspected him, as he did every day before they left the room. Dean has always been a bit anal retentive about Sam’s appearance. They wouldn’t be going anywhere until Dean was happy that Sam was presentable. That meant that Sam was bathed, his uniform was clean, pressed and free of holes —it always was, Dean did laundry and ironed everything—, Sam’s hair had been tamed from bed head into some sort of neatness, —most days Dean found something wrong with his hair as soon as he left the bathroom mirror and insisted on re-doing it himself.

“You got your books?”

“Yeah.”

“Home work?”

“Yeah.”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah.”

“Salt and Holy water?”

“Yeah.”

“Your knife?”

Sam frowned and reached into his back pocket, “The iron one, Dad borrowed my silver.” Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his own silver plated switchblade out of his boot holster and handed it to his brother. “Thanks.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Dean snatched his coat from the hook next to the door and handed Sam his own. The motel’s door clicked behind them and they started trudging towards the main road. The school wasn’t that far, a ten minute drive but a thirty minute walk.

“Dean,”

“What?”

“Can we go watch some fire works tonight? It seems like everyone is going to the pond to go watch the show.”

“We can’t get there, dad has the car.”

“Jordan’s brother is driving him, we can hitch a ride with them.”

“You know we can’t Sammy.”

“Not Sammy, _Sam_.” The little boy stressed, determined to make his brother stop calling him by such a babyish name, or at the very least stop calling him Sammy in public. It was an on going battle. “Why not? Everyone will be there all the towns’ cops and everything, it’s going to be perfectly safe.”

“Dad said to stay put, and besides I’ve got a late shift tonight. Mr. Mercer has some cars he wants to be able to get rid of before Friday and you’re not going alone with any one.”

“It’s my friend and his mom, how dangerous can it be?”

Dean’s jaw tightened and his face closed off, just like it always did when they had conversations like this. “Ms Lyle.”

At that, Sam ducked his head, shut his mouth and kept pace with his brother. That whole mess with Ms. Lyle had been scary. She had been so nice when she was his teacher. He had been so excited when Dad and Ms. Lyle were dating— he had thought that just maybe he’d have a mother. Dean had hated her from day one and never missed a chance to voice his mistrust.

In the end Dean had had the right of things— Ms. Lyle had been a demon out to turn Dad into a demon, kill Dean, and take him away. Sam didn’t know much of what had happened. He remembered vaguely train tracks and sometime after, Dean telling him to get out of Bill and Pam’s house and to run as far away as he could.

Whatever it was, it had to have been bad, Dean had come to get him from his hiding place in the woods covered in blood, smelling of smoke and shaking like a leaf. After that fiasco, Dean and Dad had been at odds for months. The whole incident was something they didn’t ever talk about now. It was an elephant in the room whenever Dad mentioned that he was leaving.

“Right,” Dean said as they stopped at the gate, “you go ahead on in, I’ll pick you up at three.”

“I’ve got soccer today,”

Dean nodded, “four thirty then.”

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

The landing was abrupt, painful and more than a little disgusting. The alley behind the restaurant was grimy and smelled bad. The stench of rotting food and urine was a thick cloying miasma. Castiel gagged momentarily, he was becoming far too human — he was almost completely depleted of Grace.

He lay there, looking up at the ink black sky dotted with stars, and was able to see why the human revered it so much. Even though Castiel had been to different planets, times and planes of existence, when he was here on earth trapped in this weak and depleted Vessel it felt like the sky was infinite, large enough to swallow everything he had ever known and all the things he didn’t.

Castiel stayed still and looked up into the sky for a few minutes. The stench of the alley penetrated his nose and the sounds of the humans laughing and gasping echoed in his ears from afar —He knew those voices, he had never heard them before, but he knew them.

Using the edge of the dumpster to pull himself to his feet, Castiel managed to stand. Standing was the easy part, getting his feet to work… well, that was much more difficult, he swayed and lurched as he attempted to walk, he had little and less Grace. He had just enough energy to fly three times before he destroyed his Grace, making him human. Castiel stumbled out from the alley way and struggled to steady himself on his feet. He needed to get to the boys, heaven was coming for them and there was no safe place.

There was a diner, conveniently across the street from the alley and so Castiel went inside and took a seat in a booth that the waitress gestured to.

“Good evening sir, Welcome to Tanda’s! I’m Ally and I’ll be your server today. Here’s a menu and—”

“No need,” Castiel was going to rebuff her and just ask if the boys had come, but then he remembered the joy that eating a burger had brought him when famine had taken over that small town. If there was one thing he needed now it was certainly a small measure of joy. “I’ll just have a burger.”

“Alright, is there anything else?”

“Yes, my nephews—“ Castiel cut himself off once he heard the clang of the bell over the doorway. There they were, Sam and Dean laughing as they came in. Dean standing tall, looking more and more like the man he’d soon become and Sam latched on to the older boy’s back like a monkey, laughing and smiling, his face dirty and his hair a wild mess. “There they are, can you make that three burgers and please send them this way?”

“Sure honey,” the lady said and went to go get the boys.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

“You two, your uncle is just over there. Your burgers will be ready in just a moment.” The waitress said with a smile as she went to go put in the orders.

That wiped the smile right off of Dean’s face. There were several things wrong with this; if it really was uncle Bobby that meant something had gone wrong on Dad’s hunt, and if it wasn’t then there was something not right going on. They had never met any of dad’s family and none of those relatives would know them on sight.

Dean looked over to where the waitress had pointed and was shocked to see the very man he had been so determined to push out of his mind this morning —Castiel. He wore the same rumpled suit and tan trench coat and looked exactly the same as he did two years ago, down to the dark stubble on his jaw. His piercing blue eyes were trained on Dean, forcing Dean to acknowledge him.

“Sammy, be ready to run alright?” Dean muttered as he bent his knees to make it easier for Sam to slip off of his back.

“He’s the man from before…” Sam whispered disbelievingly as he pressed a hand gingerly to his stomach, he still recalled the pain that had come with the man’s touch. It had been excruciating and horrible, it only lasted for a moment but it was bad enough that he hadn’t dared to move after, just incase the pain had come back; Dean had carried him out of the alley that night.

“Yeah, so be ready to run.”

An order Sam was well used to, “Alright.”

Dean felt Sam’ fingers slide into one of his belt loops and hold tight and despite the situation he had to smile; Sammy wasn’t a little kid anymore and he didn’t want to be seen holding his big brother’s hand. They approached the booth at a casual pace, Dean tucking Sam into the far corner before sitting down himself.

If worse came to worse, Sam knew the drill. Dean would cover him and distract the enemy so that Sam could slip under the table, crawl to the door and run as far away as he could get. As it was the man didn’t look very threatening, and so Dean relaxed marginally. “What do you want?”

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

 

Dean leaned back in his seat looking just as defiant as ever in his too-big leather jacket. “What do you want?”

While the question was direct, there was more than one answer that Castiel could give, around four actually but he decided to inform Dean of the ones that were immediately relevant. “As of right now, a burger. They are delicious and make me feel joyful. As for my long term wants I would like to stop the Apocalypse.”

“You are out of your fucking mind.”

“Dean, I am not mentally unfit. I am an angel of the Lord, who has seen what is to come if the Host is able to manipulate you and your brother.”

“Why should I believe you?”

Castiel knew that he should not lie, promoting fallacies was as close to a sin as one could get with out actually sinning, but if he didn’t there was every chance that Dean wouldn’t believe him. Protecting the brothers Winchester was difficult enough without fighting the brothers as well. And Castiel had no illusions that even as young as they were that they wouldn’t be very difficult to subdue. Also, he had the means to buy their trust. When Dean had discarded the charm, Castiel had retrieved it, his faith in God not yet completely broken.

“Because it was you who sent me,” Castiel reached into the folds of his trench coat and pulled out the charm that Dean had given him so long ago and placed it onto the table. The relic was one of a kind and even Dean knew that, not to mention that his initials had been carved into it’s underside by Sam. This was the one thing he could ever hope to use as proof of his good intentions.

Dean’s eye widened and his fingers reached up to his neck to clutch at the same exact charm that rested on his chest. He ran his thumb reverently over the little carving and pursed his lips.

Just then Ally turned up with three burger-laden plates and placed them on the table along with a bottle of Ketchup and steak sauce. “Enjoy you guys, alright!” she chirruped before dashing off to attend the customers who were walking through the door.

“Alright…” Dean shook the bottle of Ketchup onto Sam’s burger and slid it over to the boy before doing the same with his own. “I’ve got questions for you though.”

“I will answer them as best as I can.”

“Why do the Angels want to start the Apocalypse? And what does that have to do with us?”

“Corrupted orders are being given to the lesser Angels. Soldiers like myself, and our commanders are being issued orders that are not God’s will. The Archangels and the Seraphim think that if they cleanse the earth that Father will return. To begin the Apocalypse the righteous man must spill the blood of another in hell.”

Dean looked thoughtful as he munched on some fries and considered Castiel’s words. “So, what? Our father makes a deal when I die?”

Of course, Dean was certain that it would be him, never Sam, that would die. But then again, it was proven that Dean would not allow Sam to die. Castiel felt his Grace ache. Dean was glorious to behold in his natural state, his soul shining impossibly bright with love.

“Yes, that does happen but your father is not the righteous man, Dean. You are.”

“Why would Dean go to Hell? He’s the best! There’s no way!” Sam had for the first time added his thoughts to the conversation, making Dean flush as he tried to quiet his brother’s indignant protests. “Tell me why!”

“Don’t worry about the why, Sammy.” Dean comforted his brother while watching Castiel warily. Discreetly, Dean tipped his head towards Sam. The message was clear, ‘It was for Sammy, wasn’t it?’

Castiel nodded, not daring to voice a confirmation and upset Sam more.

“You said you were an Angel of the Lord. I’ll buy it for now,” Dean said, once he finally got Sam to let go of him and eat. “But what I don’t get is if the other Angels are trying to off us why are you trying to help?”

“The first time I met you it was in battle. I was sent to retrieve you from Hell… At the time I thought it was only because you were undeserving of suffering for all eternity. But there were many, many, many such souls that had been sent to the pits regardless. They had made The Deal, Father granted freedom of choice and as servants of Him, we must respect that.”

“‘We can only take your body if we have consent.’ That’s what you told me. I take it I’m a Vessel?”

Castiel nodded his affirmation. How so many people discounted Dean as unintelligent he would never know. Even now he could see the shrewd intelligence in the young man’s eyes. “To walk this plane of existence we Angels need Vessels. The only way we can take a Vessel is with the consent of the Vessel his or herself. Without that consent we cannot enter, to do so would be a perversion of the highest order. We would lose Our Father’s blessings and Fall beyond redemption, beyond humanity — we fall into nothingness.

Vessels …The trait of being a Vessel is passed along bloodlines. You have to be born a Vessel. There are almost always many Vessels but only ever one Perfect Vessel. A Vessel that is not perfect will break down and deteriorate. The more powerful the angel the quicker the Vessel will fail. A perfect Vessel is a Vessel with the strength to retain an angel’s power.”

“So I’m guessing the poor bastard you’re wearing is a perfect Vessel. You look just like you did two years ago.”

“I am an exception. This body is not a true Vessel, but rather an empty human Vessel crafted for me by God.” Castiel couldn’t possibly hide his pride at this fact. He may never have seen Father but he knew he was, or had been, an important instrument of His plans. “Even perfect Vessels can suffer from retaining an Angel for too long. The human’s mind will break under the stress unless they are released to heaven first.”

“Like a balloon, then?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you fill a balloon with air it stretches with more air, stretches until it can’t take any more and it pops.”

“Rather like that, yes.” The concept was not that far off. “Both you and Sam are perfect Vessels. They needed you, they could not resurrect your body and use it with out your freely given consent. And so I was sent to retrieve you.”

“So tell me why did they call Sammy an Abomination? Why did they try to kill him? I’d never, never give someone who wanted to hurt my brother anything they wanted.”

“Sam is…” this was where it became paramount to tread carefully. One wrong word and Dean’s willingness to hear him out would be lost to him forever. “Sam is a perfect Vessel for Lucifer. And you are Michael’s Vessel.”

Sam’s face blanched and he dropped his burger back onto its plate. “I’m Lucifer?”

“No. You are Samuel Winchester. Your body could withstand having Lucifer’s Grace within it without deteriorating from the strain and power. You are still yourself.”

“Not that I totally believe you anyway.” Dean’s eyes, so fixated on Castiel as if he were watching for any sign of dishonesty had flickered to Sam who pressed closer to him. “So when all is said and done, what do you want with us?”

“I want for both of you to be safe and out of their reach. Somewhere that is warded against the heavenly Host— somewhere that they will not look.”

Castiel had to convince Dean that the best option right now was to work with him. If not there was no way the brothers would be safe. Even if Castiel went and Angel proofed Bobby’s house and dropped the boys there, they were still vulnerable. Humans had to eat and drink and what would they do once they were cut off from their food source, or what would happen when Michael gave orders that one person an hour would be slaughtered at the gates of the lot until the boys relented? There were tactics to end a siege, and Michael who had always excelled at war, knew every last one.

“What they are doing is wrong. This is not God’s will.” Castiel was certain of at least that much.

“You said you knew me so you should know this, I—“

“You don’t believe in God, I know. But I do, I have faith, Dean.”

“And I have a little brother to take care of.” Dean stated, before he finally took a bite of his burger.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

In the hotel room Castiel watched as Dean packed up their lives as quickly and efficiently as he did anything. The clothes were folded neatly and tucked away into the duffel bag they shared, Sam’s book and small toys were slung into his backpack and shoved at him, the room was cleaned of any proof of their existence— surfaces wiped down, bathroom scrubbed with bleach, the beds stripped of sheets and the sheets burned in the dumpster out back. There would be no trace of them besides the salt that lined the windows and exits, and the wards that had been drawn in clear latex paint on the walls.

When it was all done and the room cleaner than any maid ever bothered for it to be, Dean looked to Castiel expectantly. “Well?”

Castiel frowned, and looked at Dean, “What is well?”

“Not that kind of well, I meant what are we doing, where are we going?”

“I am unsure as of yet.”

“How are you unsure? You approached us! Both times. You’ve got us worked up with all this Vessel shit and now you’re really telling me you don’t have a fucking clue? What good are you to us then?”

“I know how they think, I know how these things will play out. Trust me, there is more to this than just finding a good place to lie low. “

“No shit. It was only about that we’d be at Bobby’s by now!”

“Robert Singer’s home is not warded to prevent Angels from entering, and it is also not equipped to handle a thousand year siege. Because Human years are nothing to my brothers.”

“It’s not just your brother’s I’m worried about. It's my family. If Vessels are hereditary then one of your dick brothers are going to wear my Dad like a cheap suit. There are things… things my Dad would give everything and anything for.” Dean’s voice dropped to a low rumble at the end, but Sam still heard it.

Sam knew that Dean knew exactly what John Winchester would put everything on the line for, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t for his sons. Sam recalled Ms. Lyle, he remembered how nice she was and how caring. It was kind of like what he imagined having a mom would be. But Dean had hated her, didn’t trust her and didn’t want her to take care of or even speak to Sam. When Sam had asked Dad why, Dad had said it was because Dean was jealous, no one but Dean had ever taken care of Sam before and the change was hard for him.

Ms. Lyle had even lived with them for a time. It was back when they were staying in one place for a while and Dad was taking a break from the hunt. Sam had made it into the regional science fair and Ms Lyle was going to drive him to the school to catch the bus with the rest of his classmates. To this day, Sam could not remember very much of that day at all. He just recalled waking up in a rail yard, laid out on one of the tracks. Dad had been hurt and Dean was covered in blood chanting as fast and loud as he could in Latin.

He knew now that Ms. Lyle had tried to take him away. But that was all he knew. Dean wouldn’t talk about it and the topic could never ever be brought up with Dad.

“There are Demons that have been trying to take Sam for years!” Dean’s voice thundered through out the room, returning Sam’s focus to the battle of wills that was going on across the room. “The last one got way too close. I exorcised it just in time but I can’t take a chance like that again, so either you’ve got a safe place or we’ll just have to tough it out here.”

“That is not wise.”

“You carved that shit into our bones didn’t you? Isn’t that like an anti-Winchester finding ward or some shit?

“No. It only prevents them from scrying for you or locating you with their Grace. There is always a loophole with magic and you two must be safe before they find it!”

“I’ll hear them coming and we’ll run.”

“How will you hear anything?”

“You all talk so goddamn loud, I don't see how I’d miss it!”

Castiel came up short, eyes the size of goose eggs. “You can hear our true voices?”

“Well, I hear you now that’s for sure.” Dean grumbled and rubbed his hand over his face, “Last time, in the alley… you and Michael were talking and I could hear it all, like the voices were all around me… my whole body could hear you. God, you were shouting so loud…

“Your time in Hell must have destroyed that ability. When I met you the first time, you couldn’t hear my voice.”

“Well whooptie-fucking-do, big deal!”

“It is a ‘big deal’. Angels are made of pure energy called Grace; we are too pure for most humans to witness." Castiel explained with waning patience, "If they look upon our true forms they become blind, those who are not gifted with understanding our true voice are rendered deaf or insane.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Actually it makes things rather challenging. People tend to want to run and hide from a noise that nearly destroys their ear drums even when at a whisper.”

“I couldn’t hear anything.” Sam offered from his seat on the radiator.

“I know, your receptiveness to heaven has been blocked because of Azazel.”

“Who is Azazel?” Dean snapped, wondering exactly why they were bringing yet another person into this fiasco, “And what does he have to do with this mess?”

“Azazel is not our focus right now, I need to find a place they will not find you both—”

“What if they don’t find us because we are in a place that they aren’t looking in?” Sam spoke up, tired of being a non-participant in this entire conversation.

“What do you mean Sammy?” Dean asked, clearly not understanding his brother.

“It’s Sam. And I mean, if I were an Angel looking for a human I’d look on Earth. I’d never look in Heaven because what would a human be doing there unless they were dead?”

“Sammy you’re brilliant!” Dean reached over and ruffled his brother’s hair with a smile, “So Cas, are there places to hide in heaven?”

“Yes, I believe so.”


	4. Castiel; The Fallen & The Obedient

Castiel checked that the scraps of his coat he had torn and wrapped around the Winchester’s eyes were secure and that there was nothing left in the room to lead to them. Once he was certain all trace of them was gone, Castiel pressed his fingers firmly to the fore foreheads of the Winchester brothers.

This last flight would deplete his Grace to the point that he would he barely a step away from removing himself from existence. But this was necessary, and he wouldn’t really be gone. The Castiel of this time would still be here, with all of his Grace and a solid purpose— to look after the Winchester brothers. Castiel took a deep breath and let what was left of his Grace flow between the earth and his quarters in a heaven that was not yet barred to him.

 

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Castiel’s breaths were labored, his Vessel's chest heaved and shook. There was not enough Grace to keep it mobile and functioning and Castiel could feel the remnants of his self being burned away by the stress of maintaining this visage.

“What is the meaning of this?”

[Castiel tilted his head back to view himself as he had been created —as he was meant to be. His true form was wonderful, a glorious sight and something he could no longer achieve after spending so much time in this Vessel. He was taller than any of the human’s touted skyscrapers. His alabaster body, midnight back wings and amour were glorious to behold.](http://th08.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2012/301/8/2/to_face_the_days_of_glory_by_clair_chan-d5j9ts0.png)

If the burgers made him feel joy, this sight before him filled him with mourning. He would never be this glorious again, but there was no regret. Dean Winchester had given all that he had to save the world. And when that hadn’t been enough, Sam had given Dean's final treasure. Samuel had given his most pure and whole self.

Yes, Castiel had fallen but that was nothing but necessary. And now that his role in Father’s plan, his importance was no more, had ended, he would be no more, he would cease to be.

And really, he was quite all right with that.

“Castiel.” The fading Angel called to his purest self. “Angel of the Lord.”

The giant in blazing amour lowered itself to its knees and then further down. “My self? Why do you seek me out?”

“There is corruption in the Host, many are in league with demons. You may not see it now but know for certain that the Elder brothers are not to be trusted— neither are their orders. There is not much time. Heed me, for I am yourself.

These children, they are the keys— the Vessels of the two greatest. You must hide them away. Protect them. The Host is coming for them.”

The Castiel of that time looked upon his other's tattered wings and failing Grace and felt discomfort overlay his entire being. “If that is what the Host requires why have you not given them to the commanders? Disobedience is not—”

“Disobedience is necessary if we are to save the earth and the humans on it.”

“If the orders are given—“

“The orders are wrong." The little, barely holy Angel called, his true voice diminishing leaving only the human tongue behind. "Raphael of the future has sent scouts back to implant fallacies and create urgency. He wishes to release Lucifer and Michael of that time from the cage or prevent them from ever being trapped.”

“Michael is atop the citadel, why have you not brought the matter to him?”

“I have, he will not see reason. He wants to kill the younger child, in an attempt to force the elder to make a deal with demons, and then force him to consent to be his Vessel.”

“You are mistaken.” The giant thundered, and Castiel pitied himself and his past naivety, “That is not something the Host is allowed to do. You cannot force consent.”

“And yet they have and will continue to so do. It is hard to believe the worst of your brothers, believe me I know. I understand but Father has a plan and you are apart of it. Faith… faith at times will be difficult. If you cannot have faith in yourself, have faith in Father, if you cannot have faith in Father… have faith in Dean Winchester.

For he is **Righteous**. He is the purest good— He is what Father intended for Adam and all of his children.”

“The little one, I can see his taint. He is an Abomination! You bring an Abomination into heaven and expect me to shelter it? Myself what has happened to you? Is this why you have fallen?”

“This is why I will rise!” Castiel snapped sharply, “The boy was tainted in his cradle, the taint is little and so long as you shelter them it will not spread, it will not grow and the Demons will not have a Vessel strong enough to withstand Lucifer.”

“My time in this plane is coming to a close, take on my Vessel— Father has fashioned it just for us. Fill the place where I can no longer be.” Castiel felt the very last of himself being burned away and so he did the only thing he could think of to be sure the boys would be safe— he sinned. “Keep them safe, it is Father’s command that you guard them with all that you have— with all that you are. He has told me so.”

“Father’s will must be carried out.” Without any further hesitation, Castiel slipped into the empty Vessel that had been left to him.


	5. The Fallen & The Obedient

**Interlude with John** : John and Fear

John Winchester knew what fear was. He and fear had quite an intimate relationship. He first got to know fear when he had joined the marines and spent the better part of five years in Vietnam. He hadn’t seen many battles— three of them to be precise. Those three had been more than enough to make him fear what could happen on a battle field.

The rest of the time it had been the waiting, the idea of the men lurking in the shadows waiting to kill him and his brothers in arms. Waiting made your mind turn on you, dig up all the darkest and worst possible horrors that you could conceive and put then in the corners of your vision so that you could just barely glimpse them each time you turned your head.

Then came the fire. Mary up on the ceiling, her face beautiful in its distress even as she’d burned and dripped blood into the crib of their baby son.

Fear had come again when Dean had been unresponsive at the hospital and silent for two years afterwards.

There was the Demon dog, the hell-hounds, the demons that stalked him and his boys constantly; chasing after Sammy with ruthless and unshakeable determination.

There had been the Striga— Dean’s impulsive choice to leave the room had put Sam in danger. To this day, John couldn’t make himself admit that it was his neglect that really put the boys in danger (because really, what could a nine year old really do to a monster like that, shot gun or no?)

Fear was a constant companion for John Winchester, he was intimately acquainted with fear, its tricks and its ways of turning you against yourself.

But this …this was more than fear. This was terror at its finest.

He had come into the motel room to find it empty. Not just empty of his children but of anything and everything that declared that they might have been there. There were no sheets, no clothes, books, toys, food containers or even the little hotplate that traveled with them from motel to motel. There was nothing but the salt on the window ledges and in front of the door.

The lines weren't broken and the seals he’d drawn were still in perfectly functioning condition. Something had threatened his boys and they were out there running, and covering their tracks just like he taught them. John swallowed his panic and fished his cell phone from his pocket. He had to put out the alert

John wasn’t the best father. He’d never had such delusions any way, but he couldn’t abide by his boys in that much danger. On hunts he was there, watching out for them keeping them within rings of protections but now they were out on their own and that …that wasn't safe at all.

He needed to find his boys because anything could happen, and while he knew Dean would take care of his brother— lay his very life down for Sammy, just as Dean had laid down his grief and his childhood to look after his baby brother, who would look after Dean? Who would take care of his golden boy?

Dean was able to take care of a baby, a toddler, a small child or a grown man with infinite patience and care, but when it came to looking after himself… John had to remind Dean that it was okay to let Sammy out of his sight long enough to sleep, that just because they were low on money it didn’t mean he shouldn't eat, if some one had to go without a meal then it would be John because he was a grown man and their father to boot and Dean was still growing.

John remembered those early days without Mary. How he hadn’t even managed to care for one, let along both of his sons. Sammy had been taken care of by Dean and Dean… John had been such a mess that he hadn't realized Dean hadn't eaten for nearly three and a half days until the boy had laid down besides his brother for a nap and John hadn’t been able to wake him up. It was one of those memories John drank to forget.

As he looked into the liquid courage in his shot glass he tried hard to think of the night he realized he wasn't cut out to be a father.

__**November 1983**

The screaming had yet to stop. It had been forty minutes since Sammy had awakened. The baby was a red squalling ball of misery and wasn't afraid to let the world know it.

"Sammy… Baby… please." John said beseechingly to the baby on the bed, His hands were so stiffly bandaged that he couldn’t move them. The sharp horrid pain of just the bandages and the ointment was enough to make him wary about picking up Sammy. He couldn’t even trust himself to be able to bear the pain and not drop his little son.

Dean was sitting somewhere between the headboard and the mound of pillows. He was completely hidden from view, but John knew exactly what he would see if he moved the pillows. Dean would he sitting with his knees up against his chest, his head on his knees and his skinny little arms wrapped over his head in an attempt to block out Sam's crying.

Dean still hadn't said a word, hadn't asked about Mary and John was thankful for that. Jon just didn’t think he could handle it if his son had asked him where Momma was. He was dealing with too much as it was. The insurance claims were going through extremely slowly because of the tornado a few counties away. There wasn't much money left in his checking account meaning he'd have this room for only another two days if he didn't get his ass to the shop. Going to work wasn't possible because his hands had been immobilized by thick bandages so the burns could heal.

On top of all that, he would need a sitter, and who really had the patience to deal with his children as they were right now? Sammy only screamed and cried and would sick up. The baby only threw up bile because he hadn't eaten anything for the last two days; Mary had breast-fed both of the boys and Sam would just not take a bottle. As for Dean, these days he didn’t say a word and didn’t do anything but watch Sam cry, and sleep.

"Dean, come 'ere I need a bit of help." John called over the screaming and the pounding on the wall from a pissed off neighbor.

Dean poked his head out of the pillows and crawled forward so that he was next to Sam on the bed. He looked up at his father with his huge green eyes; they were so flat and lifeless that it hurt John to maintain eye contact.

"I need you to change Sammy for me, alright?" Dean nodded and pulled Sam closer to himself and reached behind him for the diaper bag. "Thanks, bud." John rumbled as he watched Dean handle the situation with an ease that came from several trial and errors during their first few days in the motel room.

John couldn’t bend his fingers or even use his hands and so he had to verbally walk Dean through the steps. There were a few accidents, yeah, and a few messes but after the fifth change, Dean had figured it out and had quickly become an expert. Things went much the same with making the formula, bathing, and pretty much anything tactile that needed to be done for the baby.

Watching his four year old change his screaming six month old, while he stood there like a moron, was one of the lowest points of John Winchester's life. He felt worse than useless and like an awful father. What the hell had he been thinking, having children? He was clearly not cut out to be a parent. It was easy to see with Mary gone just how much of a mess he was at the whole thing.


	6. A Haven

**Chapter 04** :A Haven

As Castiel went to talk to the thing he warned them not to look at, Dean took in the state of his brother. It was easy to see the pain in the way Sammy held himself carefully on his own two feet, back straight and fist clenched so that he wouldn't reach out for Dean. The older boy sighed, Sammy wasn't hurt— there was no battle, no fall and no injuries from when they shot off the fireworks… it had to be a migraine.

"Come here," Dean muttered as he pulled Sammy closer to himself and tucked his brother's face into his side, draping an arm around his brother's shoulders. They had only been here for a few minutes and Sam had managed to get an instant migraine. A bad one by the looks of it, Sam was pressing himself further into Dean's side as if his body would block out the light and maybe a bit of the sound that probably felt like spikes being driven into his head.

Dean sighed and gently rubbed his brother's back. There wasn't much he could do besides wait it out. These migraines sometimes lasted for days and depending on how severe they were they could be debilitating; making Sammy unable to move without help and killing his appetite.

Dad had always acted guilty and angry when Sam got migraines; as if it was his fault. Dad had tended to go a bit mental on those days. He had coddled Sammy, made the room dark and as quiet as he could, he’d got real food from little mom and pop places and laid with Sam sprawled across his chest.

Once Sammy was back to normal, dad had returned to his usual hard-ass self, barking orders, shunting them from place to place, making them study lore and grimoires, pushing them to train with guns and knives and their bodies. That instantaneous change had always baffled and frustrated Sam, but these days Sam would go as long as he could without letting someone know he was in pain. He didn’t want the comfort… or maybe he did and didn't want it to end, whatever it was, Sammy was pulling away more and more when it came right down to it.

"How bad is it?"

"Not awful yet, I'm just… a bit woozy."

"We'll see what we can do," Dean used his free hand to card fingers through Sam's too long hair, "this is supposed to he heaven. You know, the whole no pain paradise thing. What gives?"

"You're an atheist Dean. You're ruining paradise for the rest of us, it’s unraveling at the seams."

"Shut up, smart ass."

All of a sudden there was a chilly crispness in the air that sent shivers down Dean's spine. It felt almost like the cold of a spirit but it was distinctly different. The cold was so cold that it burned and in a moment it was gone along with the feeling of warm comfort that had steeped into his bones from the moment they had arrived in this place… this Tuesday?

Dean looked up to see Castiel walking towards them, returning from where he had come. Only, the look in his eyes was wrong and there was power in his presence— a power that he did not previously have.

"Who are you?"

"I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord."

"No you aren't." Dean maneuvered Sam behind him. It wasn't much but it was something. He didn't know where they were, if there was a way to escape or how to fight off this new threat. Sammy wasn't even at his peak to run and escape while Dean made himself a diversion, "You may be wearing his suit but you are not Cas."

"In a way, I guess you are correct." The new Cas said, tipping his head to the side in thought, reminding Dean a bit of the slow puppy that girl he used to screw back in Minnesota had. "I am Castiel, without doubt. But I am not the Castiel that you knew. That Castiel was from another time. His Grace has failed and he has unraveled. Now I am charged with your safe keeping."

"He's dead? You killed him?"

"No, he has destroyed himself. He depleted his Grace traveling through time, healing… bringing you here. There was noting left to hold his presence together, therefore he is no more."

"So you just watched yourself get "unraveled" and you're so calm about this why?"

"It is the Father's will that you be guarded and safe. I will not let the death of myself be in vain." Those ice blue eyes, so cold and unfeeling roved over Dean's body, looking through his flesh to something far deeper.

"Alright… so, now what?"

"You shall remain here in this heaven. It is well known that I dwell here and many see it as my own territory. Not many come here and if they do come there will be warning."

Dean looked around at the open space of the park. There were buildings beyond the trees, but they were almost transparent, non-substantial.

"Okay, yeah… but is there anyway we can lay low? Sammy's not feeling well and we aren't dead yet and we'll have to sleep, not safe to do out in the open."

Castiel tilted his head once more, "Sleep?"

"Er… it’s a human thing it helps us heal and gain strength. We usually do it for about six to eight hours a day."

"That is nearly a quarter of your earth days."

"So you can see why this is such a big deal for us, yeah?"

"Come," This new —was he new, or was he old? He was new to Dean, that's for sure— damn near robotic Castiel pointed past the clearing, through the grove of trees to one of the fading buildings. "You require a structure like this?"

"Yeah, only not about to disappear and with a bed and stuff…"

"I can alter the inside of one of the structures in the park." Once again, the Angel turned and began to make his way through the trees.

Dean cajoled Sam a bit, trying to keep him standing and moving. Dean couldn’t carry Sam and their bags at the same time, and there wasn't anyway that Dean was going to entrust this new Cas with Sam.

When they finally stopped walking, Sam was swaying and Dean was barely a minute from snapping at the dick leading them through this park, to just get them a tent.

Castiel stepped closer to the stone structure, a public bathroom that looked oddly enough like a mausoleum, and laid his hand on it. "This should suffice."

Dean peered into the small structure and was pleasantly surprised to see a studio apartment. There was a kitchenette against one wall, a table and breakfast bench not more than three feet away. Across from the kitchenette was a desk that sat between two tall bookcases. The shelves of the bookcase were laden with so many books that the shelves had begun to warp and bend beneath their weight. On the far side of the room, clear from any windows, was a giant bed. The bed was the biggest Dean had ever seen, piled with brightly colored blankets and pillows, and bordered by gauzy curtains like the ones pictured in waiting room magazines. Beyond that was a door that led to the bathroom; it was a small affair, toilet, sink and shower crammed into about ten feet of space but it was clean and functioning and that was all Dean cared about in the end.

"Yeah… yeah, this… it's great. Thanks."

Castiel nodded and watched as Dean dumped their bags on the table and shifted through them. He pulled out a bundle of clothes and passed it to his brother with terse orders to go shower and get into bed before he fell over.

Sam scowled half-heartedly, snatched his clothes from his brother's hands and ducked into the bathroom while rubbing at his temples.

"The taint affects him strongly while in heaven."

"What?"

"The taint of the Demon blood cannot be removed, but it can be weakened by the presence of Grace and eventually it will dissipate given enough years."

"We can't stay here for years."

"I would not expect you to. This is temporary… just until it is safe for you to walk among the earth once more."

"When will that be?" Dean asked plainly as he folded himself on to the bench. The teen pursed his lips tightly as he waited for a response. When his question was returned by silence, Dean sighed and slid his hand down his face in an attempt to collect himself. When he looked again the new angel, Castiel mark 2, was gone.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

"Sammy, I know it hurts… I know, but you've got to let go of me for just a little bit. I need to talk to Castiel about food. You'll never get better with out any energy." Dean cajoled gently, untangling Sammy's limbs from his own.

"I don’t like it… and I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat." Dean grumbled and ran his fingers through his brother's hair, a small comfort that was accepted this time. "You aren’t hungry because we're on a different plane of existence, we aren't dead but we will be if we don’t eat."

 

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Heaven, Dean decided, was really, really of boring.

Not that Dean had ever really visualized what he thought heaven would be or anything, but if he had, it wouldn't be this strange park in a little nowhere town, where two college age guys were perpetually playing Frisbee. Yeah it was nice, the sun was shining and the weather was pleasant, there was nothing rushed or stressful about the day but still and all, it was horribly boring.

With Sammy sleeping off his killer migraine, Dean was left with nothing to do. He had poked around the bookshelf that Castiel had installed but the language was something he'd never seen before and wouldn’t bother trying to translate. That was for dweebs like Sammy and archival hunters like Uncle Bobby.

Dean looked around the room once more and heaved a sigh. He'd go out and look for Castiel because even his oddball company was better than this dull silence. Dean left the room glancing back at Sam before he did, it was so weird to not salt the doors and windows, old habits were hard to kick even if Dean knew there were no demons in Heaven.

Dean kept a halfhearted eye on the world around him as he called out for Castiel. It was monotonous and uninteresting. Dean just rolled his eyes at the group of high schoolers cutting class on the edge of the field, chatting about the same math test they'd taken who knows how long ago. Before long he had reached the end of the park and still there was no sign of Castiel. He had to find the Angel soon, there wasn't any food in the apartment and Sammy was going to have to eat soon.

"Castiel?" Dean shouted again as he wandered through the deserted street with it's barely there buildings. It was startlingly eerie and more than a little strange to see what looked like a usually busy street empty and the building half faded, like an incomplete drawing. Dean wandered closer to the buildings peering into windows or slipping through doors to take a look— half because he could and half because maybe Castiel was out there. "Hey bird brain, you around?"

Dean took a step into one of the larger buildings and suddenly he was home. Back in the kitchen of the house they had in Lawrence, nothing had changed. The wallpaper wasn't scorched, the cabinets were still glossy and covered with scribbles of crayon drawings and at the counter was his mother. As beautiful and perfect as the day she died, with gold hair loose behind her and her face stretched in a smile that looked so much like his own. She was beautiful, so very beautiful. Soft and warm and smelling like everything in the world that made him feel loved.

Dean tried to get closer but he couldn’t, he was stuck in the doorway of the building and couldn’t move closer— couldn't speak. The worst thing was that she never looked at him, never saw him, it was as if he didn't exist or like this whole scene was a TV show and he was the audience. No -one ever told him that Heaven could be a place of torture either…

Looking now, God did they ever look-a-like. He had forgotten about that. The cheerful grannies that sang in the choir would take one look at them in their Sunday best (Dean's little suits and ties matching his mother's dress) and say, "Spit and image." As they kissed Mary’s cheek and ruffled Dean's hair.

Dad had called them his "Golden pair," whenever he saw them together getting ready to nap in the sunlight on the back porch.

When he was four Dean had taken to looking in the mirror, searching for the things that other people saw of his mother in him. They had the same color hair, until he turned eight and it darkened, the same eyes; both shape and color, same plush mouth and, until Dean turned 14 and his voice cracked and changed, he had had a similar laugh.

Dean watched heart broken as his mother started peeling apples for what would undoubtedly be the very best apple pie. The food in this place wasn’t real and he’d never get to taste it. Dean remembered all the little things that he'd forgotten over the years. How Mom had loved foods that were warm and hearty and reminded her of her parents. Things that she made for him that had once upon a time been made for her; tomato rice soup, large roasted hams, mashed potatoes with lumps and butter and heavy cream, bacon cheese burgers grilled in the back yard, and apple pie that was made with the juice from the jar of sweet cherries in the fridge. He remembered that Mom had liked the rain, the big old cicadas that chirruped in their plum tree, Quickdraw McGraw, dipping her breakfast sausages in maple syrup before putting it on her biscuit, and the way she looked at him and Baby Sammy.

Dean watched entranced as his mother went about her day, she had worked from home. She had stayed with him and Sammy every day, and they played games and cooked, and went to the park, and the laundry and the library, and the movies and grocery store, and played in the backyard after they pulled up all the weeds ("remember Baby, not the vegetables, just the weeds like this") and everything else.

It hurt so much to watch and not be apart of this memory. Dean's stomach twisted up in knots and his nose and throat burned as he attempted to fight off tears as he realized what day he was watching. Dean had already seen it once and that was more than enough. To watch her death a second time was beyond torture and cruelty.

She was all that was good and wonderful and home. She was his mother, and she was bleeding on the ceiling. She was looking right at Dad as he reached up for her. Her mouth open in a silent and endless scream, blood falling down on him like rain from her belly.

Sammy screamed and Dad scooped him up from the crib and shoved him at Dean. "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back!"

Dean watched as the four year old version of himself stood stock still, baby in his arms and his heart racing as he watched the fire swallow up his Mom over Dad's shoulder. Her nightdress turned black and fell away and her skin turned blistering red, her eyes rolling in her head and her gold hair curling and fading to black before burning away.

"Now, Dean, go!" Dad barked and little Dean spun on his heels running through the house the very way he was always told not to. He slowed at the stairs, they were tricky to get down on a good day but with Sammy in his arms screaming and blocking off his sight it was a so much more difficult.

As Dean watched himself carry his brother out of the house, his heart was pounding in his ears and he could barely breathe. It didn’t matter that he knew how it would end, watching a toddler carry a baby out of a burning house, barely managing to keep ahead of the flames, was nerve wracking and scary. He wanted to lurch forward, grab the kids and take them out to safety himself but he was still frozen, stuck on this spot, unable to make a sound or move a muscle.

Dean could only watch and remember. He recalled the heat of the fire was at his back and the carpet hot and halfway melted beneath his bare feet. Dean's eyes followed his younger self as through the house, only able to take in a breath when little Dean made it to the door. The kid had to put Sammy down on the floor next to him to unlock the door and swing the heavy thing open.

The quilt Sam had been wrapped in had started to catch fire but the toddler quickly Dean slapped off the flames and snatched Sammy back up into his arms. He walked forward, past Dean who stood at the doorway looking into flames.

The scenery changed and Dean couldn't grasp what was happening, he was in the doorway of the building but he was also somehow on the lawn of the house in Lawrence, watching the house burn from the inside out, from the top down.

Once the house crumbled, the world flickered before Dean's eyes and he was watching his mother smile as she peeled apples at the counter once again. His nightmare was starting over.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Castiel returned to his favored heaven, the Tuesday where he had stashed away the humans. It was a peaceful and fulfilling as it always was and Castiel luxuriated in the joy of humanity, Father's most beloved creation. Castiel gathered himself into his Vessel once more and lifted the packages of food into his human arms. Usually only the dead entered heaven, and the dead had no need of food. But these boys were living and they needed the sustenance of the earth that they were made from. Just as someone live should not eat the food of hell, one could not eat the food of heaven, and so Castiel had to go and bring food back from earth.

Castiel entered the place where the human resided and was mildly surprised to be greeted only by the Abomination. Castiel cast his gaze over the room but did not see the righteous man.

"Dean went out a while ago." Samuel said as he sifted through the bags, pulling out the food and putting it into the cupboards, "I think he was looking for you."

 

"I will go retrieve him."

 

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Dean Winchester, Castiel decided, was a horrible liar.

Castiel had found Dean on the outskirts of the Tuesday, trapped in an acceptance loop. An acceptance was one of the tools available to the human souls that needed to heal from past experiences by seeing them from an objective perspective. The human would watch the event as it played out, evaluating and processing it, until they could come to terms with it. Usually this was introduced after about a century or more of death, when the humans had time to realize and acquaint themselves with death and their past lives.

Dean Winchester had managed to get caught in a loop of the day his mother had died. Something he was not ready to face and not willing to come to terms with just yet. He stood there, horrified and sickened, body trembling, sobbing and choking on his tears and unsteady breaths. Unable to move or look away, he had been —for all intents and purposes— trapped.

Castiel placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and used his Grace to disrupt the loop. He drew the child close to him in the way the humans he had watched did. It was supposed to be a comfort, like the brush of Grace or the songs of the Host. For a moment, Castiel thought it was working, Dean had relaxed into the touch, had managed to catch his breath and stop trembling quite so violently. That assumption was short lived, because as soon as he had managed to regain a bit of his composure, he pushed away from Castiel and wiped his face clean with his sleeve and started to shout at the angel. There was a whole host of problems apparently, Dean complained that Castiel did not 'warn him', did not 'mind his own business' and 'was blind if he couldn't he see Dean was just fine, and didn't need any help.'

"Are you still distressed?" The Angel of the lord asked, confused and more than a little irritated about being shouted at by a being that registered as little more than a child, even amongst his own kind.

"Distressed? I'm not distressed, I'm fine! Perfectly alright!"

Clearly, he was not.

"If you are in need of comfort—"

Dean's face flared pink from his heck to the tips of his ears, "I'm not in need of anything! Especially not from you!"

And that was the end of Castiel's patience.

"You obviously do or else you would not be here. Take the help and accept it gracefully even if it is not what you want. If you cannot do that I will simply make you sleep for the remainder of your time here. Your safety is paramount; it is God's will that—"

"Oh, for fucks sake, you are the biggest sucker!" Dean's laughter gave way to tears and hysterical sobs burst from the boy's lips. "Have you ever even seen God? How do you know he exists and is not some great big fairytale they tell you lot so you'll stay in line and follow orders."

"I have faith."

"So did my mom. Said her prayers every morning and every night and went to church every week without fail." Dean's eyes were manic but clear; his hysteria had not impacted his thinking. Dean didn't just mean these words, he believed them. "So you tell me; just how much is that worth at the end of the day?"

A wave of cold traveled through Castiel's Grace. This was the Righteous man, this was the hope of heaven and humanity and he was nothing more than a faithless child. The world would burn if Dean Winchester could not remain righteous… how can one be righteous without faith?

"You must have faith…"

"I have faith in the things that have never let me down. I have faith in my knife, in my gun, in the fact that I will lay down my life to make sure Sammy's safe. These are the things that deserve my faith." Dean balled his fists at his side, and pitched his voice as low as he could, the twang of youth nearly disappearing in the rumble of his words. "I'm not like you, I can't be so stupid as to trust in absentee fathers and empty promises. Everyone has to grow up and make their own decisions at some point. Better sooner than later."

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Upon returning to the dwelling, Dean greeted his brother and went straight for the bathroom. He closed the door behind himself and locked it. Castiel was alone with the little Abomination. He watched warily as the boy came closer to him. But when the child reached out, he reached past Castiel's Vessel to the many books on the self.

“I can't read them… I don’t know the language." Samuel's tone was mournful as he fingered the volumes on the shelf.

"That is Enochian," Castiel explained pulling down one of the more interesting tomes from the shelf and handing it to the little Abomination, "the language of the holy."

"So only Angels and God can read it?"

"No… those who are taught by a holy being can read it as well."

"Will you teach me to read it?"

"What will you use this knowledge for?"

"What I use everything I learn for; to know. I want to learn everything I can! Languages, sciences, histories… I want to know it all. Maybe one day I could help other people with what I know, or get my family out of a tight spot— Hunting… it's not what I want but it's the family business. Saving people, hunting things."

"Do you have faith Samuel?" The question seemed out of place, but Castiel had to know. Samuel prayed, it showed in his soul beyond the taint. What he prayed for Castiel didn't know. Were they the selfish prayers said by too much of mankind, or were they the kind of prayers of exaltation that had once echoed the halls of heaven?

"I try to. It's hard because Dean says God isn't real, he's just something people made up so they don’t feel so alone. Dad says if there is evil out there, there has to be good too." Sam peered at the angel through his too long bangs and smiled. "I don’t think he's right though because look at where we are, and look at who you are."

"I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord." Castiel felt the face of his Vessel crinkle into what humans called a frown. He was not fond of this Vessel; it made his confusion too evident.

"That's exactly it!" Sam stated with a wide smile that made his eyes crinkle like a cat's and dimpled his cheeks.

Castiel pulled the book Sam had been looking at over to himself and began pointing to the pictograms stating their sounds, meanings and grammatical placement.

Sam paid rapt attention, his eyes alight with wonder and his mind focused. Castiel glanced past the boy to his soul and was stunned by what he saw there. The child's soul bloomed so bright and vibrant that the visible taint was almost overwhelmed.

Perhaps Samuel Winchester was not such an Abomination after all.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Time on the heavenly plane passed differently. Though this Tuesday was stagnant there were other places where time passed twice or even ten times as fast. Neither the boys nor their angelic companion really felt the days pass by. On earth three months had already passed since Castiel had been charged with the protection of the Winchester brothers.

Castiel had nothing to do. He was a soldier of the Lord and with no wars to fight, for the feud with hell had been put aside until the end of days, there was nothing to fill his time. And so, Castiel stayed in his favored Tuesday and sat under the trees with the human children he was guarding..

The taint in Samuel was getting weaker with each passing day. The child was never completely without pain or aches as the poison worked its way out of his soul, but he never let that stop him from devouring all Castiel had to teach him. Seals, lore and accurate histories were all things Samuel asked about. The child was also progressing in Enochian, he could read it as fluently as any fledgling and was starting to piece together the grammar of the language.

He would listen, learn, ask and practice, until Dean would come from wherever he had wandered off to, to bully his little brother back to their quarters and into bed. Castiel watched Dean lift his brother and move him forcibly when the child refused to follow his brother's directives.

"Worry not, Samuel, I will be here tomorrow as well." Castiel said attempting to calm the child down before Dean's waning patience ran out, "We can continue your lessons then."

After Samuel was asleep for the night, Dean would re emerge from the apartment he shared with his brother and sit on the steps that led to the door. He remained on the stairs like a sentry, watching Castiel with cool green eyes until the angel sat beside him. There they would sit and watch as the clouds passed them by, and the group in the field restarted their game once more.

There was no night in this heaven, just a beautiful Tuesday afternoon.

"Can people in Heaven visit one another?" Dean kept his eyes steadily on the sky as he spoke, unwilling to reveal more of himself. Not that the Angel didn't already see all that was there to see; celestial eyes viewed all of a mortal's soul at first glance.

"Your mother is not here, Dean." Castiel said, watching as if to see what the boy would do.

"S-she has to be…" The young man's hands trembled and his breaths thinned, "She was good, she was always so good…"

"Yes, but she didn't come right away." After rescuing Dean from the cycle of his trauma, Castiel had asked The Anointed Saint Peter if Mary Eloise Campbell-Winchester had come to the Gates of Heaven yet. Only to be told that the woman's soul was currently acting as a guardian to a family. Though Castiel couldn’t give his charge all of the details, he could at least sooth his fears. "She will return to heaven one day, but she feels she has an obligation to see to first."

"Right," Dean nodded at that. "Work before play." The tension in his shoulders eased as he accepted the situation. "She was always like that, you know. We couldn’t do any of the fun stuff until the house was clean and her errands were done. I remember it."

"Why wouldn't you?" Castiel couldn’t help but ask. There was nothing in his long, long life that he had ever forgotten. Not even the things he wished he could have; the banishment of Adam and Eve, the Nephilim, the great fall, the wars, Babylon and more. To not remember… would it be pleasant or maddening?

"Humans… we aren’t like you Angels, we don’t live long and all the living we do-" Dean peering at his companion from the corner of his eye, noticed the angel's frown and explained it as best as he could. "There is too much to remember everything, so some things you forget over time."

"What can you not remember?"

"I can't remember what she felt like. Her skin… she used to hold me and I remember that, but I can't remember what it felt like."

"That sounds like a pleasant thing to remember…"

Dean pulled himself up on to his knees and half crawled, half walked until he was behind Castiel. One leg was on either side of the Vessel's body and then Dean wrapped his arms around the shoulders drawing Castiel's form closer to himself. It was warm and comforting; like in the days before Father disappeared and the Host was one instead of the voices of many.

Castiel let his Vessel lay limp in Dean's arms as he basked in this feeling. It was warmth beyond Grace, beyond the pleasure of duty served, and so simple, Castiel couldn’t find a word for it.

"Dean!" Sam's panicked voice pulled Dean away.

 

Castiel felt the lack of warmth immediately, and couldn’t help but frown. That had been pleasant, he wished it hadn’t stopped.

"Castiel, we need to hit a drug store. Sammy's sick." Dean stated as he swept out of the room he and Sam shared. "Nothing too awful. Whatever he ate after I sent him inside isn't agreeing with him. I think he might be allergic; he's got a headache, the beginnings of a rash and stomach trouble. "

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

 

It was easy to see that Dean was nervous. He didn't like the idea of leaving Sam alone, but he hated the idea of not getting Sam medicine even more. Castiel had volunteered to go and retrieve the medicine but Dean preferred to do it himself; cramming antihistamines, Slim Jims, candy bars and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol into the pockets of his hoodie.

No one had noticed and Castiel felt a twinge in his Grace. Not only from watching sin happen but there was a thick, oily feeling about the room. Castiel reached out with his Grace, scanning the room until his eyes fell upon a petite blonde human with eyes that didn't look quite right. He pushed past his Vessel's sight and looked upon her with his own eyes, horrified to see that it was a Demon.

When the hell-spawn realized that he was looking and saw him for what he was, it grinned wide and lunged forward, shoving its hand through the chest of the nearest human and throwing the poor wretch across the room, before moving to do the same to the clerk at the counter.

Castiel, not wanting to endanger his charge, shoved Dean into the aisle they had just come from and flickered forward. The Demon's hand was lodged in the chest of the Vessel but that was of little consequence. His Grace would heal the damage and the Vessel was empty, there was no human within to harm.

Castiel reached forward, Grace pooled in his hand to burn out the demon. But it knew better than to let him touch it. It jumped back and snatched a hostage from the herd of people doing their best to discreetly slip past the fight and out of the door.

"You come any closer to me, handsome and I'll snap this little bitch's neck so fast…" The demon gave the girl a shake to demonstrate its point, but overestimating the durability of the human it grabbed, or just being deliberately cruel, a trait found in every demon, shook so hard that the teenager's neck snapped anyway.

Castiel pursed his lips, reached into his Grace and drew his sword. There was stillness for just a moment before he lunged forward. Castiel couldn’t manage to land a single blow on his opponent. Between the difficulty of fighting in a form that was so very alien to him and avoiding the swinging limbs of the dead body that the demon was using as some strange cross of shield and weapon, it was near impossible to land more than a blow.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Dean hadn't understood Castiel's sudden change in demeanor until there were people screaming and he had seen the little woman with inky black eyes and her arm bicep deep in some poor fucker's chest. Dean grimaced and took a deep breath; he was a the son of a hunter —hell, he was a hunter himself.

He could do this. He had to do this. This was the danger Sammy faced and what Dean would have to fight against until there were no more demons that were after his baby brother.

Dean surveyed the aisle he was in. There was no salt but there were gallons of water on the shelves, and six other people; a stock boy, two old ladies, a mom and her kids -two boys who looked barely older than Sammy. He looked back and forth frantically until his eyes caught the glinting metal at the throat of the old lady closest to him.

" _The lord is with thee. Blessed are thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus._ " she muttered before starting over once more. The glint of silver may have caught Dean' eye but the prayer that she was hastily muttering was what held his attention.

Hail Mary, Hail Mary, The Lord's Prayer, Hail Mary again.

She was Catholic! And that wasn’t a necklace or a simple crucifix; something like that tarnished and outdated, real silver rosary showed devotion. It had more than likely it had been blessed…

Dean glanced again at the gallons of water on the shelf behind him.

The information flared and the dots connected in Dean's head and before he could process it all, he was crouched in front of the old woman he'd been watching, chewing on his lip. "I'm so sorry ma'am, I'll give it right back. I promise." Dean whispered, as he snatched the silver rosary off of the old woman's neck. Dean peeled off the plastic cap from the bottle of water and fed the beaded chain into the container keeping it pinched between his fingers as he chanted.

"Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti: ut fias aqua exorcizata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas…"

Dean kept chanting as he looked up in the mirror mounted on the corner of the ceiling. Castiel was sword fighting with the demon that was holding her own with a metal pipe she had snatched up. Things were getting hairy as the demon's eyes flashed black. She was gaining the advantage and forcing Castiel back into a corner.

"…Amen." Dean spat, tossing the rosary back at the woman he had taken it from, snatched the jug up and darted into the fray. As soon as Dean was close enough he -splashed the holy water all over the blonde girl's back.

"Fucking brat!" It screeched, snarling at him, while it tried to keep Castiel at bay. The demon screeched as Dean dumped the rest of the water down its back. Black smoke billowed out of the woman's mouth in a thick cloud that raced away.

"Are you alright?" Dean dropped the empty jug and pressed his palms to the wound in Castiel's chest with shaking hands. "You… You're not go-gonna to die are you?"

"I will be fine once my Grace is replenished," Castiel reassured his nervous companion while placing his fingers to Dean's forehead. With barely a breath they were back to their Tuesday. Time was of the essence. The demon could have been one with contacts to the corrupt Host. The Winchesters had to move, returned to their father's side once more.  



	7. Interlude 2:  With John and Azazel

**Interlude 02:** With John and Azazel

 

"Father," Meg announced her presence as she edged her way into the room. Azazel was one of the more tamed fallen in hell but that didn’t count for much. He was still prone to sudden bouts of torture— that was the problem with the fallen; they were all so terribly mercurial.

"Meg." There was the acknowledgement she needed to enter.

"I've been tracking your children. Winchester had gone off the board for a while but ran into his brother in Tennessee." Meg flinched and gurgled as she felt the pressure of Azazel's irritation wrapped around her throat.

"I don't give a shit about the brother. Where the fuck is my boy?"

"The brother… -was being g-guarded by an Angel!" Meg rasped and gurgled through the pain. If she was ineffectual Azazel would waste no time in killing her— never mind a return trip to the pit. Failure was rewarded with death.

"Oh?" The fallen Angel pulled back abruptly, his yellow eyes aglow. "How interesting, it looks like they're gearing themselves up for battle." Azazel dropped Meg to the floor and called forth more demons from wherever they had been hidden. "All of you. Check on all of Lucifer's potential Vessels. Do not rush the process, do not make anyone suspicious, you are to watch and only interfere if those feathery idiots try to kill one of them."

"Meg, go meet with our contact. Find out who is guarding Sam. And where they are hiding him." Azazel opened his mouth and billowed out of his meat suit. He had a business to take care of.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

John Winchester knew he was a bad father. This wasn't something anyone needed to point out to him (although, everyone who knew he had children, felt that it was their moral obligation to do so every time they saw him). He just never thought he was such a lousy father that his kids would run off.

But that's what happened. Their bags had been packed and taken with them. Their clothes, books and personal weapons were gone. It had taken John a few hours to realize that they hadn't been snatched up and had left under their own power, but he figured it out.

There had to be a reason though and at first John thought that Dean had sensed some kind of danger and knew he had to get Sam out. Dean had an uncanny sense of danger, the boy seemed to know when there was trouble afoot; especially when it came to Sammy's safety.

With Sam's third grade teacher he had known something was off, even when John was fucking her every night and telling himself that she could be a mother to Sammy, Dean had been begging him to open his eyes and see what was going on right under is nose. It wasn't until she tried to run off and take Sam to hell with her that John had taken his son seriously.

After that, there had been the boogieman in Sammy’s closet. Sam told him there was a monster in his closet and John, half drunk and thinking the boy had stayed up late watching movies he wasn’t supposed to, handed his little boy an unloaded gun and said, "take care of it."

Sammy cried and Dean, barely eleven at the time had rolled his eyes, told Sam to sleep in his room. Dean camped out in Sam's room and in the morning had dragged a hung over John to see the carcass of the decapitated boogieman staining the carpet of Sammy's bedroom.

John had dragged the carcass out, burned it in the yard, cleaned up the carpet well enough that he'd get his deposit back and went to take a shower. While the scorching hot water flowed over his back, John sobbed and threw up all over his feet. Alcohol, and whatever the fuck he ate the night before, making the bathroom reek as it made its way down the drain.

After that, he started trusting in Dean's sense of danger more than his own judgment. He knew that he could leave the boys on their own for a while. Confidently knowing that if there was indeed some danger that Dean would follow the safety protocols and plans they had in place and if those failed, he'd keep himself and Sammy safe. But after driving fifteen miles west to their meet up spot, calling Pastor Jim, Bobby, Ellen and even Caleb— none of them having a lead on his boys, John started to worry.

Bad father or not, John wasn't ready to let go of his boys. And wherever his boys were, John would find them. When he got hold of them he'd hug them until they couldn’t breathe, then kick their little asses from California to New York and back. If those boys didn't have a life or death reason for this, neither Sam or Dean, would be sitting comfortable or leaving John's sight until they were at least thirty!

John bolted back another dram and slammed the tumbler down on the table with a grunt before turning to look at his phone.  


-2 New Messages-

  


_Utah, I've got nothing.  
-C"_

John puffed out an exhausted breath and -wiped a hand down his face. Utah wasn’t a state that Dean would ever allow him and Sammy to set up camp in. He hated the place.

_No one's seen them here. Cross Mississippi off your list.  
-Singer_

John closed his phone and rolled his shoulders before he stood up from the table. He would move on in the morning. For all that he wanted to not stop until he found his boys, without a few hours of sleep, he was worse than useless. It had been four days since he even napped and it was taking its toll.

The lack of sleep was getting to him. It had to be, because he was hallucinating. There at the window of his hotel room, was a tall man in his fifties, with a three piece suit that looked like it had just come off the rack of Sachs 5th Avenue, short cropped, salt and pepper hair and piss yellow eyes waving at him.

"It's 2:00 am, Johnny. Do you know where your children are?"

John's eyes snapped open, all the fatigue shunted from his body in favor of rage and adrenaline.

"You, son-of-a-bitch! Where are they?"

"I dunno, Johnny. But you should, what kind of father loses his kids? Shameful." The demon clicked its tongue and shook his head gently chastising, His eyes zeroed in on John and his lips curled into a disconcertingly toothy smile. "I promise. I'll take batter care of the boys than you ever could… well, Sammy at least."

"You've got my boys?"

"Not yet." The Demon's lips pursed for a moment, as if he was displeased before he returned to taunting John. "Give me some time to find out which one of those feathered fuckers are keeping little Sammy from me."

"What the fuck do you want?" John cocked his salt-packed shotgun, pointing it at the demon's face. "If you don’t want my boys, why are you even here?"

"Because John," He drawled, far too pleased with the situation, "I had to make sure you knew not to worry, they're with the Angels now... not for long though, you won’t have to worry about a thing, I'll find them."

"Fucking demons, Liars all of you! There is no such thing as Angels."

"Of course there is, Johnny boy. And they've got your sons." The demon sung softly. It was quite perturbing how, even though it was a whisper, John heard the voice as if it was right beside his ear.

"Demons lie." The desperate hope that for once the old adage of 'Demons lie' wasn't true, beat deep in John's chest.

"Yes. Yes they do." Azazel nodded, his Cheshire cat grin still in place.

"Where are my boys?"

"I don’t know but when I find them, I'll have them give you a call."

"You go near my son's and I'll kill you. I'll find a way."

"Oh John, quite the joker aren't we." The demon laughed, his yellow eyes flickering before reverting to a steely gray. "If only Mary could see you now." And just as suddenly as he had appeared the Demon was gone.

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Mary.

Good God, Mary.

She'd skin him alive for this. Not only did he uproot his boys constantly. No constants, no friends, no home, no permanent school. John eyed the motel room with its rumpled beds, peeling wall paper, and questionable order and buried his face in his hands.

It all started out as a just a one off. It was meant to be a short-term solution. But somehow, somewhere along the line it turned into this. And Goddamn if this wasn't fucked up.

 

_John looked in the rearview and took another look at his children. Dean was uncharacteristically quiet, his large green eyes searching out John at all times as if he was afraid that he'd disappear too. Sammy, he was asleep in Dean's arms. He'd been fussy all morning. Sammy was undoubtedly hungry, Mary had breastfed both of her son's, unyielding in her belief that formula was unhealthy, now Sam who had never once had a bottle pushed between his lips didn’t know what to do with the one the nurse tried to feed him. The baby also more than likely could use a change by now._

_"They had a bit of smoke inhalation but other than that, the boys got a clean bill of health. Not a single burn between them… me on the other hand…" John held up his hands. They were covered in bulky white bandages, each finger rendered immobile by layers of burn salve, antibacterial ointment and gauze pads. There were minor burns on his face and shoulders but those were simply shiny little healing patches._

_Jett winced and put his hand firmly on John's shoulder, "You know Lucille and I won't mind having you and the boys stay with us. You'll need help, especially with your hands busted up as they are." Jett opened the driver side door and walked around the car to get the door for John who couldn't manage to open the door with his flipper like bandaged hands. "Let us help you, John."_

_"Thanks for the offer, Jett…" John swung his legs out of the car and stood, he was a head taller than Jett, but somehow today he looked smaller—defeated. "This…I need to do this on my own, just me and the boys… Mary… she… I can't stay across the street from that house and explain to Dean why we can't go home just yet and where his Momma's gone… I don’t have it in me. We'll just stay here for a while… just until the insurance money comes through and I fix it up."_

 

John lifted his head from his hands and snatched the phone off the table. Punching speed dial 3 and tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder. "Bobby, I've got a lead, it sounds ridiculous but give it a try, alright? For the boys."

[ ](http://sta.sh/0j0tclzouxz)

Zachariah's Grace pulsed as he entered the Hall of the Host. "Michael, there is a traitor amongst our ranks. The Abomination and your Vessel are being held here, in heaven."

"Then, we will storm through the garrisons and find them." Michael's voice rang throughout heaven, startling those who hadn't heard his voice in so long. The Host raised their voice in exaltation and Michael made his way to find each of his brothers with Zachariah in tow.  



	8. Cracking Stones

**Chapter 05:** Cracking Stones

 

Castiel's Grace thrummed as he looked upon the child that his own future self had charged him with the care of.It was an odd resonance that he felt with the boy. It was as if there was a touch of Father's power inside of him.

When Dean spoke, it was with power. When he touched Castiel, he brought a peace and solace that could not compare to the song of the Host. When Castiel looked into Dean's heart and soul, he saw the touch of the Father. Castiel saw the love of humanity, of creation and loyalty and righteousness —the exact righteousness that would lead Dean and Sam to destruction if prophecy and the tattered version of himself were to be believed.

And thus, Castiel could no longer deny that Dean Winchester was the righteous man.

"We need to keep the both of you out of their machinations." The Angel announced as he watched Dean hover over his brother, administering the medicine that would bring the child's illness under control.

For the first time Castiel wished that he could be more than he was. He was a soldier with only the healing Grace to repair broken bones, ease pain and heal physical trauma caused by battle. Illnesses and human plagues were far removed from the scope of his abilities.

Dean didn’t acknowledge Castiel until he had Sam bundled in the thickest blankets their bed had to offer. Sam's head resting on Dean's thigh where he slept as his brother pet his hair. "Why do they want to kill Sam? Sam is good, he's so good. He's smart, he believes, he prays, he never cheats, doesn’t steal and he hates to hunt and go after the things that dad and I hunt." Dean cleared his throat but it was easy to hear that he was choking on the tears he refused to shed. "Why Sammy? Why not some one else? It should be someone else…."

"Samuel is Lucifer's true Vessel. He's already been tainted with Azazel's blood when he was but an infant. Azazel killed your mother and drove your father to make you strong enough to withstand and defeat almost anything." Castiel came hesitantly closer, not wanting to startle the boys much. He wanted to be close to gauge Dean's reaction. How would the righteous man act? Would he tell Castiel to kill his brother for the good of the many or would he be selfish and let Castiel not destroy Lucifer's finest hope. "Samuel is Lucifer's best chance at rising and defeating heaven once the time comes."

"When the time comes? You mean _if_ the time comes. Nothing is set in stone, where there's a will there's a way and all that shit. The Devil's not laying hands on Sammy, I'll kill him myself if I have to."

"There are things that are 'set in stone' as you say…"

"Stone can crack and be worn away until the words can't be read."

"The words were still there." Castiel crouched down so that he was eye to eye with Dean. He gently laid his hand on the boy's shoulder and fed a bit of his Grace into the boy. If there was danger, or if Dean called him he would come. He would follow the smudge of Grace that he left on the righteous— on Dean's soul and deliver him from harm as best as he could. "Metaphors aside, the fates have written all of what is to be.-"

"You mean to tell me, that our whole lives, from before we popped out up, was charted out? By someone else?"

"Yes, that is the job of the fates. It is written that you will be the true Vessel of Michael and Sam the true Vessel of the Morning Star. "

"I'm going to keep Sam safe." Dean tucked his brother closer to himself and adjusted the strap of the duffle bags. "We're going to leave and we're going to write our own fate. I'll never say yes and I'll make sure that Sammy does the same"

Castiel looked behind his shoulder as the screech echoed through heaven, louder than before.

"Michael is getting closer."

"That's out clue to leave," Dean reached out with his left hand and placed it on Castiel's shoulder. The Angel felt as if the circuit had been closed, soul and Grace touching and blending with one another. "You ready, Cas?"

"I cannot go with you Dean. I cannot leave the Host. It is treason… this small act alone is treason…" Castiel leaned forward bringing his voice to less than a whisper, it wouldn't do for the other to hear him. "Where would you like to go? Where would you be safe? I will send you there."

Sam sniffed a bit and grunted in his sleep but Dean quieted him with a gentle hand through his hair and pulled the quilt higher around Sam's shoulders "Can you get us into the basement of our old house? The first one, back in Lawrence. We'll work it out from there."

Castiel pushed the thunderous rumble of his brother's voice out of his mind, and focused on Dean's memories of the location and the feeling, the charred remains, and lifted two fingers to Sam's forehead. The boy flickered from the Plane of heaven and was tucked safely in the well-kept and safe basement of a home in Lawrence, Kansas.

As Castiel lifted the fingers of his Vessel up to touch Dean's forehead, the boy grabbed the digits, holding them still. "Where should we meet you?"

"What do you mean? I told you that I must stay here."

"Why?" Dean's voice rumbled deep and was filled with challenge, making him sound like the man he would grow into, rather than the youth he was.

"Because I must follow orders." Castiel whispered directly into his charge's ear, Michael was nearly upon them. "I am a soldier of the Lord."

"Thing about soldiers... they have to follow orders, even when they know they're wrong. If they tell you to kill Sam, will you? Would you kill me?"

"They need you alive, they would never give that order."

"Trust me, I know it’s scary to be the one who makes the important choices. When you do, let me know how it turns out." Dean smiled sadly and pressed the fingers he held in his hand to his lips, letting the Grace whisk him away.

Once Dean had been sent to Sam, the room returned to its original state. All traces of the humans vanished as the urinals and sinks reappeared. Castiel stood up, looked around the empty room and shed his Vessel; it was time to face Michael.

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Thank you so much for reading my fic. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> [Please remember to leave love for TeamAbodo's beautiful pictures on the Art Masterpost.](http://teamabodo.livejournal.com/23758.html)


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